The Hidden Fox
by demisses
Summary: She was his mission. He was her way out. Both had their lives stolen from them and it was only when they found each other did they discover how to take them back. Bucky/OC
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello! Something that just stuck in my head and I absolutely have to write this story. Focuses on my character and Bucky. Perhaps some Rodgers and Romanova splashed in there. I don't own any thing and am writing this because I would go mad if I didn't!**

Russo Volpe

Mikka was just sixteen when she and her barely older sister were loaded into the back of a green, canvas covered military truck. The two of them, along with all of the other orphan girls huddled in the darkness unawares for just what they had volunteered for.

The man had seemed honest enough, talking up his school for young women alone in the world in a convincing way. Willing to teach their wretched souls the skills they would need to survive in a world on the verge of war. Mikka hadn't wanted to go, the cold feeling she got when the man looked at each of the girls, as if they were insects and he was their exterminator, made her hesitant.

Her older sister though could be very persuasive. Using logical reasons such as what else was there for them in the rundown orphanage. Where would they go once they were too old for the orphanage, which would be in a few short months for her sister?

So Mikka had agreed and packed what few belongings she had into a potato sack and held onto her sister's hand.

The first warning bell went off in Mikka's mind as they passed through chain link gates guarded by men with rifles and black uniforms. The tops wrapped in barbed wire and casting menacing shadows across the ground as Mikka watched from the open canvas flap at the back of the truck.

Life became a hazy dream for Mikka the moment she jumped down from the truck. Few memories made it through her time with the so called recruit skills training program. She remembered the man checking a clipboard and calling her name as well as her sisters, sending them to the "Red Room." A block of rooms' located deep underground with poor lighting and cold floors.

She remembered the whimper she let out as a red star was etched onto her shoulder and the solid fist that snapped her face to the side for showing such weakness. This is when her sister finally began to have misgivings about what they had volunteered for.

The experiments and training began immediately after their arms were tattooed. Countless injections from men in white coats, hiding behind reflective googles. Always writing on their clipboards and never hesitating to signal for a nearby soldier when she began to resist. Hour after hour spent learning to fight, learning to kill.

Mikka wasn't sure why but she seemed to be their favorite when it came to experimenting on. They never allowed her any recovery time before starting her on a new trial. Injecting something painful into the base of her skull then ordering her to perform a multitude of tasks. Anywhere from reading a book to killing another of the girls who was deemed "unsuitable" for what they were striving to achieve.

She never wanted to do it but her sister had told her that they must. It was do what they want or be killed. Just like the others. So she buried her humanity, locked it away and did as she was ordered. And the experiments became worst for it. She was such a model student that they were treating her as if she were special; they wanted to see how far she could be pushed. And Mikka almost believed them.

Never certain just what they did to her during the last time they cut her head open. Mikka was certain that she had nearly died and that was what had spurred her sister into action. Mikka had been tossed into her room, unconscious and barely breathing, the jagged cut from the back of her shaved head up to the top was poorly stitched and still bleeding when her sister came for her.

Carrying Mikka through miles of underground tunnels, killing soldiers, and dodging bullets, her sister got her to safety. Hiding her on a train holding American soldiers celebrating their victory over the Nazis, her sister wasn't so lucky.

As the train pulled away a single shot fired and her sister fell from the open car door, effectively putting her back in their control. Mikka wanted to go after her, to find her sister and save her. But she was so damaged that she couldn't lift herself to her feet to pursue them.

An American soldier named Frank Carbonell ventured into a train car that was less crowded, allowing him the peace and quiet to write a letter home to his wife and daughter. What he found was a broken girl staring at him with unseeing eyes and mumbling incoherent Russian.

On instinct he knew that this girl needed him. Her life depended on what he would do next. Turn her in as an enemy or smuggle her into the states with him. Frank chose the latter and brought her home with him to New York City.

Mikka vowed to never forget the kindness the Carbonell family showed her. They took her in and never questioned her past and she never offered it. Mikka recovered quickly from her ordeal and she became a part of their family. She was there when Alice, Frank's wife died from cancer. When Maria, his daughter, married Howard Stark. There for Maria during the difficult birth of her son, and by Frank's side as he passed away.

Over the years Mikka noticed her body was different in several was. First she had developed a high tolerance for pain, learning this when she had been thrown from a horse and broken her arm. She hadn't felt more than a sting. The next came when Mikka turned twenty six. The year her nephew Anthony was born.

Mikka realized that she still had the youthful appearance of a teenager. Whatever they did to her in the Red Room, they had changed every cell of her body.

By this time Mikka had gone to college and studied engineering, impressed by wealth of technological creativity Howard had. He mentored her and paid for her to go to MIT and welcomed her into his company as soon as she graduated. Days and nights spent in the labs together designing and building, little Anthony poking his fingers into everything and rambling out constant questions. Beginning to create a name for herself in the scientific world.

This new realization that she was aging at a very slow rate changed everything for Mikka. It wouldn't be long before those around her began to ask questions and she didn't have the answers. It would be just a matter of time before dangerous people began to seek those answers as well.

She wrote a letter to Maria and Howard, telling them that she would forever be grateful to them, to Maria and her family for making her their own, but not to look for her. She would be long gone and wouldn't be returning.

Taking what seemed important; a handful of sensible clothes, a photo album, and the pearls Frank had given her when she turned eighteen. Mikka left her MIT diploma hanging on the wall of her bedroom where she spent the last ten years gaining her humanity back. A last glance at the lace curtains and Mikka left for the west coast.

As far away from New York as she could get.

* * *

Changing her name to Micah Nova, she allowed her old self to disappear. The thought occasionally surfaced, searching for her sister. But something held Micah back, perhaps it was fear or anger but she just couldn't bring herself to go back to Russia. Instead she held low profile jobs, making just enough to get by, and never staying in one place for long.

Every year or so Micah would change towns and change hair color, never forming close relationships with her community. There wouldn't be any point to it.

Years and decades passed, through the news she learned of Howard and Maria's death in a fatal car accident, watched her nephew Tony grow to celebrity status and become a hero to the entire world. Part of her wished to be a part of his life but that just wasn't possible.

She did give in to her desire to move back to New York shortly after the rubble from an alien invasion had been cleared. A quick move to an overpriced and tiny apartment, taking a job as a clerk in a dusty little book store, specializing in hand me down books.

Life remained simple and quiet for Micah for a short blink of time.

The light tinkle of the doorbell echoed through the small book shop called Simply Books, bringing Micah from behind her pile of books she was separating. Leaning to the side to see the new arrival standing in the doorway looking around.

"Feel free to look around! If you are after something specific just let me know alright?" she called out with a helpful tone to her voice.

The man nodded silently and moved out of her line of sight toward the shelves of books. Micah briefly considered his attire; a black hoodie pulled low over his face and rugged blue jeans. Deciding that she was being paranoid she shrugged and turned back to her project of sorting and pricing the many books that were donated every day.

Quickly blowing her red bangs off her nose and pulled her hair into a bun before she scratched down the next title and set the price on the price gun. A little radio sat below the desk playing instrumental jazz to which Micah hummed to, trying to ignore the late summer heat filtering in through the glass windows.

As the minutes ticked by the hairs on the back of her neck began to stand on end. She noticed that the shopper hadn't been seen since he went around to the end of the store and it was beginning to make her nervous.

Moving her eyes to look for the nearest weapon all she could find was the pencil she was writing with. Micah paused in her work and held her pencil, studying it, thinking to a far gone time when she knew how to disable someone with such a weapon.

"Couldn't find what I wanted."

The sudden sound of the soft voice startled her from her thoughts and she dropped the pencil. Her green eyes wide Micah looked at the man and nodded quickly.

"Sorry to hear that. Have a great day!" She said brightly, relieved that the man was leaving at last. She didn't like the way suspicious people caused her to think about her past. Despising herself for after all of this time since she had had to fight for her life, she still had a barely leashed violence in her.

She released a deep breath once the wooden door closed behind him and sat back in her stiff chair, staring at her pencil. She wanted to get out of there, to go back to her apartment where it was safe. Checking the time on her watch showed that she still had three hours before old Mr. Collins like to close up the shop.

After another sigh Micah tried to put everything out of her mind and concentrate on her work.

* * *

The walk to Micah's apartment was longer than she would have liked but she hadn't had the luxury of being picky when she made the spur of the moment decision to move back to the crowded city. Much of it was the same. The old buildings stayed the same, only new ones got bigger and bigger with each sky scraper added to the skyline.

The sidewalks were crowded and the traffic congested to the point where Micah wondered why anyone bothered to sit and wait to move two feet. She walked quickly, her scuffed sneakers thudding quietly with each step. Subconsciously she held her pencil in the pocket of her shorts, rubbing her thumb over the edges and trying not to look over her shoulder.

The smell of street vendors had Micah's stomach growling painfully, reminding her that she had worked through her lunch break once again. A quick check through her pockets revealed that she had just enough money to buy a couple of hot dogs.

However rush hour for the streets and sidewalks meant rush hour for the food stands and there were several others waiting in line for their turn to give their order. Micah fought a sigh and covered her eyes from the sun wishing she had thought to grab a pair of sunglasses before leaving her apartment.

The line moved and as Micah moved forward with it she noticed she had stepped in a wad of pink sticky gum.

"Aw come on!" she cried and tried to scrape it off on the edge of the curb.

A little girl walking by with her mother pointed and giggled at Micah's antics and she answered back by crossing her eyes and grinning back at the girl. Shaking her head at the ridiculousness of such a simple situation Micah straightened and continued her wait in line.

A man bumped into Micah from behind and she sent a glare over her shoulder to answer his muttered apology. While she had her head turned the sound of screeching tires seemed to appear from thin air. Micah turned to see a yellow taxi swerving in and out of traffic. Calculating the angle the car was going she saw that it was moments from hitting the little girl and her mother.

Instinct overcame Micah's senses and she ran for the child and mother. She could see the car from the corner of her eye when she was just out of reach of the two now standing frozen in fear. Micah could see the terrible horror in their eyes as they were helpless to think of the action they should be doing; running for their lives.

As the car's front wheels hit the curb with a sickening scrape, Micah dove forward and shoved them out of the way, watching as they landed just inches from certain death. For herself she only had a split moment to meet the panicked eyes of the taxi driver before the front bumper made contact with Micah's shin. The force sending her over the hood of the car, her back slamming into the windshield before she rolled over the top of the car and landed heavily on the concrete. Her left arm trapped beneath her chest and she lay facing the car as it came to a stop half inside the Starbucks on the corner of the intersection.

Micah gasped and slid her pinned arm free. The breath had been sucked from her lungs and she felt blood pouring from a deep gash somewhere on her head. Pushing herself to her knees she looked at her shoulder the sleeve of her t shirt ripped off in shred and her tattoo was visible. Besides that she could tell that her shoulder was out of place. The pain was there but bearable.

Blinking the haze free from her vision Micah looked around at the chaos surrounding her. Bystanders were helping the mother and child to stand, some were on their phones. And then Micah noticed that they were taking photos of her and hot anger surged through her blood.

She realized that she needed to get out of there and fast. Using the momentum of her upper body, Micah moved to her feet, cursing at her broken leg. A hospital was not an option. People grew uncomfortable when someone was different. Ignoring the dull ache in her head, leg, and shoulder Micah sprinted as fast as she could from the scene. The exclamations of the crowd could be heard rising behind her.

Micah didn't stop until she slammed the apartment door closed behind her, throwing every lock into place she then leaned back against it and slid down to sit on the floor able to breathe at last. As the adrenalin drained from her blood she began to shake uncontrollably.

Flashes of other near death experiences echoed through her mind and a dry sob escaped her throat. Realizing that she was on the brink of shock Micah set about calming herself. Concentrating on first easing her arm back into its socket, splinting her fractured leg and disinfecting the various scratches she had along with the jagged cut above her eyebrow.

When she was done her sink was covered in bloody wads of gauze and the tattered remains of her shirt. Micah stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, the bruises beginning to bloom on her jaw line and shoulder. Giving a dark background to the only tattoo she had. The red star on her left shoulder.

* * *

"Sir, I advise you to take a look at the news in New York." Agent Rumlow said into his headset, excitement obvious in his voice. "You're going to want to see this."

On the other end of the phone Alexander Pierce nodded to one of his operatives who immediately brought up the breaking news report from New York. Warnings of graphic material flashed before a hazy video showed a woman hit head on by an out of control car. The interesting part came when the obviously injured woman stood and ran faster than she should have been able too.

Pierce felt his heartbeat speed up and a gleeful smile spread across his face. "Go back eight seconds and freeze frame." He ordered the operative. "Bring the woman's shoulder onto the main screen."

Pierce studied the grainy image of a red star tattoo, his smile widening. "Agent Rumlow. Forget your current orders. Instead bring me subject Red Fox. You have twelve hours."


	2. Chapter 2

Nachinayetsya Okhota

(The Hunt Begins)

" _We- we are just so grateful to her. I just know that my little girl and I wouldn't be alive today if she hadn't put herself in danger for us. My only regret is that I didn't get to thank her personally. So please. Whoever you are… if you are watching, please meet me at the site of the accident so that my daughter and I can thank you personally. What you did… it was heroic and I will never-"_

The television screen went black as Micah turned off the power. Confused and lonely. She wanted to believe the woman, believe that she truly wanted to thank her. The woman had seemed sincere. Tears in her eyes while she held tightly onto her daughter's hand, and just a touch of a tremor in her voice. Again Micah's mind went to how meeting with the woman could be dangerous.

With a sigh she sat back in her fold out chair and ran her fingers through her hair to run them along the scar on the back of her scalp. She was growing weary of constantly being filled with paranoia. To look at an innocent request to grant this woman her desire and find it suspicious. Micah felt unworthy of the woman's praise, of her thanks. Wanted more than ever to be normal.

"Maybe I'll just take a look…" Micah whispered to the blank television. "If I'm going though, I'm going prepared."

She dressed quickly in plain black jeans, a loose fitting t-shirt, and laced boots. She tucked her hair into a baseball cap before pulling a small locked case from beneath her bed. Inside there was an automatic colt pistol and a dagger of medium length with a leather sheath. Micah checked to make sure the gun was loaded and the safety engaged before tucking the weapon into the waist of her jeans, with an extra magazine in her front pocket. The knife, she strapped to her ankle and practiced drawing her weapons.

Once she was satisfied with the movements, Micah slid on a pair of dark sunglasses and left her third floor apartment behind. No one seemed to pay her any attention as she walked through the crowded sidewalks. She reached the street corner across from the accident and looked for an acceptable location to scope the area.

There was a magazine stand, a café with seating on the sidewalk, and a teenager handing out flyers to what she assumed was a concert for his band. A quick analysis of her options and their positions revealed that the magazine stand would be the best. Pulling a few dollars from her pocket she paid the tender for a newspaper and relaxed her stance to casually leaning against the brick wall next to the stand with the paper open before her.

Looking above the rim of her sunglasses Micah watched the crowd across the street closely. There was the mother and daughter seated in folded out chairs positioned next to the taxi sized hole the car had made in the side of the Starbucks. Standing around them were a handful of reporters waiting to see if she would arrive. Not many of the people walking by paid them any attention, most only concerned with what was going on in their own lives.

That's why when Micah noticed a man with short brown hair, dressed in joggers' shorts, and an unzipped track coat, lift his hand to his ear while he looked around, his lips barely moving, Micah went on high alert. Her first instinct was to walk away, immediately. Instead she couldn't help the roll of her eyes and the exasperated smirk she hid behind her newspaper.

"I'm not an idiot sir. A jacket in the middle of September? Either you are incredibly cold natured or this isn't something you normally wear. Nice try." Micah mumbled to herself.

Her mirth evaporated in the next second as she caught a glimpse of the suspicious jogger's gun strapped beneath his jacket. "So that's why you're wearing that ridiculous jacket. Sorry lady. You can keep your thanks." Micah sneered as she snapped the newspaper to fold it and turned away. "Seems as if New York was a mistake."

Micah began to make plans. She needed to get out of the city soon. No, she needed to get out tonight. But first she needed money.

The feeling that someone was watching her, following her stuck to Micah's skin as she made her way to the book store. She wanted to just say it was her ever present paranoia only there was always a shadow in the corner of her eye; the urge to look toward it was powerful. The small bit of training she had however told her that would be a grave mistake.

She thought she had done well leaving the corner of the accident undetected but she now suspected that she was wrong. Unable to breathe comfortably until she pushed her way into the book store and closed the door heavily.

"Well this is unexpected Miss Nova! Didn't you call to say you wouldn't be able to work today? Is everything ok?" Mr. Collins asked from the cashier counter.

Micah shook her bangs from her nose and moved closer to the counter and talking in a quiet tone. "I'm so sorry to do this sir. You see there's been an emergency with my grandmother. She fell-"

"Oh my! I'm so sorry to hear that!" Mr. Collins interrupted.

Micah swallowed, lying to such a kind old man- well he was technically younger than herself but he lived with the knowledge that his life was dwindling- left a sour taste in her mouth but self-preservation won out. "Yes sir, thank you sir-"

"Oh please, no more of the sir calling. Make me feel like an old man or a drill sergeant. To which I am neither." He interrupted again.

Micah stared at him a moment, deciding on if she was annoyed or amused. Amusement won and she gave a sheepish grin. "Of course, I apologize. As I was saying I need to stay with her for a while- and well… I came to ask if I could have a few days to get her settled and find a caretaker for during the day."

Mr. Collins reached for Micah's hands, enfolding them in his own. "Certainly. Take all the time you need."

"Thank you s- thank you. Also may I have what I earned this past week a few days early? I need to pay for her medical bills-"

"Well why didn't you say so earlier? Just let me go to the back and put it in an envelope. Why don't you pick her out a few books to enjoy while she recovers? Free of charge naturally."

Micah gave a slight bow of agreement as Mr. Collins left for his office in the back. Letting out a sigh she walked over to the many bookshelves to see if there was a book or two she wanted to bring along. She didn't normally keep such items. They took up space and were heavy to move from town to town. Typically she just checked out books from the library however a nice historical romance novel sounded like the perfect way to spend a long bus ride after a stressful couple of days.

Her gaze touched through the titles to find a Jude Deveraux until something caught her eye, Micah noticed something curious. The shelves were covered in dust, though that was expected. It was the fact that the dust had been removed from the spot in front of a book, as if the book had been removed very recently and then put back in its place.

The book was titled in Russian. " _The Tyrant King_. A book of poems." Micah translated to herself. Realizing the customer from yesterday must have picked up the book and read part of it then instead of just paying the two dollars for it.

"Unbelievable." Micah scoffed and shook her head. A third of the way through there was a folded page, as if the man had marked his spot. Her quick glance down the page made Micah realize that her Russian had grown incredibly rusty over the past sixty years. Then making a decision Micah held it securely in her arms. Finding a second book about ladies and rouges falling in happily ever after, Micah met Mr. Collins back at the front where he gave her a vigorous handshake and told her to come back as soon as she was able.

Accepting the envelope with a grateful smile she tucked it deep into her pocket and left with her books in hand.

The heavy weight of eyes settled on Micah immediately and she altered her course back to her apartment by detouring to a nearby department store that looked relatively crowded. She never stopped moving as she pulled her ball cap off, her long red hair falling free. Then she pulled a gray vest off a hanger and over her shoulders, ripping the security device from the hem. She didn't care if the vest was ripped or not, the purpose was to disguise not look fashionable. It hadn't been the smoothest transition as she juggled her books from arm to arm.

The last two items she grabbed was a tan sling bag to slip her books in and a dark green fedora, settling it over her head before escaping out the door on the opposite side of the store hoping to loose herself in the streets. A last second decision and Micah entered another building and located the stairs to the roof.

"Hopefully he won't expect me to move to the rooftops. Great… I had to pick the building with thirteen flights of stairs…" Micah grumbled after a quick look at the buildings directory. Exhaling a deep breath she tried to jog up the first seven flights of stairs before having to slow to catch her breath.

"When did I… become so out… of… shape? Perhaps… I'm finally getting old…" Micah gasped out. Once her breath was under control enough to continue ascending the stairs she made a mental note to try and throw some running into her future. 'Can't exactly outrun the bad guys if one can't even run.' She thought irritably.

At last on the roof of the building Micah studied the rooftops to gather her bearings. Just at the far reach of her eyesight she could see her apartment building. She began to second guess her decision as the jumps between buildings were quite wide and just moments before coming to the realization that her athleticism could be better.

"I need to get to my apartment. I'm not leaving without my pearls." Micah steeled herself and stashed her sunglasses and new hat in her bag. Stepping backwards to gain distance for her run she thought back to what she could remember of her training.

"Let's see… use the edge of the roof to push myself into the leap, land with my legs out to pull myself into a rolling stop. Brush off and repeat. Alright, Mikka get your ass across these buildings a-sap. You won't feel it much even if you miss. But just to avoid the awkwardness of it all…. Don't miss."

Micah took one last deep exhale and sprinted for her first leap, repeating the steps to herself as she came to the edge of the building, using the ledge to vault herself into a high arc, she barely reached the intended landing. Her ankle on her fractured leg weakened her solid landing into a stumbling fall to her side. Pushing herself to sitting Micah dusted her shoulder off and squinted at her apartment building in the distance.

"One down."

* * *

At last Micah used her knife to pry open the window to her apartment as she crouched on the clearly unsafe fire escape. Ducking inside and locking the window behind her Micah then collapsed onto her bed with a weary sigh.

The knees of her jeans were now fashionably ripped to shreds, as were her hands and knees. Blood stained her clothes and dirt covered her from top to bottom. Toeing off her boots she pulled her envelope of money from her pocket.

"Enough to get me to… Boston? Yes that should do for now." Micah sat up and began to undress. "Alright. First is a shower, grab the usual and then get on the first bus out of here." A quick study of her injuries from the previous day showed that they were healing quickly. As they always did.

Thirty minutes later and Micah was leaving behind her sparsely furnished apartment for the last time. She hardly took a breath as she once more took to the streets. Her weapons in place and backpack heavy with everything she owned stuffed inside.

Micah was perhaps a block from the Greyhound bus station when her instincts felt that she was being watched again. A casual glance didn't show an out of place jogger with short brown hair but there was a man who looked very similar. Only this time he was dressed in black cargos and a black t-shirt, sipping on a cup of coffee while moving his thumb across the screen of his cellphone.

Deciding that it would probably be best to change her route to the subway station she quickly walked past the coffee sipping man and looked for the nearest entrance to the underground. Micah felt his footsteps as he gave pursuit. They were heavy and close. Very close.

Micah increased her pace as she reached the first entrance, breaking into a run when she felt his pace quicken with hers. Panic began to rush in her blood and she pushed people behind her hoping to gain precious seconds for her to use for her escape.

Almost weak at the sight of a train already stopped at the station, its doors open and waiting Micah knew she would make it just in time. As she reached the set of doors the back of a forearm hit the back of her neck, the hand gripping her upper arm slammed her into the side of the train, inches from the door.

"I'm going to only ask politely this one time. I'm going to need you to come with me with no resistance." A harsh voice growled into her hear, his breath blew into her hair. Micah gasped against the cold metal, her mind racing.

The sound of air pressure building in the door hydraulics hissed and Micah jabbed her elbow low into her attackers kidney, loosening his grip just enough for her to twist to the side and through the doors as they hissed closed.

She stared at the man through the door windows as he punched them once before the train pulled away. Micah knew that she wasn't safe yet. This was someone who wanted her. Badly. And he or whoever he worked for knew that she was on the run. He had been waiting for her at the bus station. They were organized and she knew there would be someone waiting for her at every stop this train line made.

This led to Micah making a very reckless decision. Adjusting her backpack on her shoulders she made her way down the long train passing from car to car. At the back of the train she released the emergency latch to the door, sliding it open to see the track clicking by and a sickeningly fast pace at that.

"Deep breath and exhale." Micah whispered to herself and then jumped from the train. She lost all ability to breathe when she impacted with the track, trying to control her roll in order to avoid the electric current in the rails. When she rolled to a stop Micah felt that her left arm was again out of place but there wasn't time to think about that now.

As soon as the train arrived at its next destination in the next eight minutes whoever it was that was after her would realize what she had done and it would be a short time later that they would be sweeping the tunnels for her.

Jogging back in the direction she came from while aboard the train it was within moments that she came across a utility access door and as luck would have it, it led to another station near the buses. Micah could have cried when she was at last seated in a comfortable seat at the back of a bus, watching the streets of the city go by.

Sighed in relief when the skyline was behind her.

* * *

"Are you telling me that you let a five foot and four inches tall, one hundred and twenty six pound woman escape?" Peirce said in a dangerously low voice. "You had her in your hands… and you just let her go."

The soldier stared at Peirce, watching as the man paced and berated Agent Rumlow. Rumlow shifted uncomfortably, clearly searching for the words to defend himself with.

"This woman was… unexpectedly reckless. Sir she jumped from a moving train traveling at fifty miles per hour. We are checking surveillance now to find which bus-"

"Sir! She's on a bus going to Washington D.C." Another agent interrupted.

Rumlow narrowed his eyes at the disrespectful interruption. "Sir I'll be en route immediately."

Pierce considered Rumlow a moment before shaking his head, a decision made. Instead he walked over to the soldier and held a picture of a woman in front of him. Knowing what would come next he quickly studied the woman's features: her red hair, bangs and waves, green eyes, small freckles across her nose, pale skin, injury above her right eyebrow. Already knowing her height and weight the soldier had all he needed.

"Take a helicopter, intercept this woman, and bring her to the D.C. base. Alive. I want her there before the sunsets."

The soldier stood and began to ready himself for his new mission.


	3. Chapter 3

Novaya Missiya

(The New Mission)

The afternoon hour waned as the traveling bus made its trek along the interstate, passing through Pennsylvania and Baltimore. Micah hardly noticed the direction she was going for anywhere was preferable to New York. She would go to the end of the line if she had to in order to disappear again.

" _Granted command of the world by the will of Gods; he fills their hearts with war. False glory is found; still they follow one last time_ … Cheery." Micah said as she slowly translated the poem book written in Russian. Snapping it closed she sighed and studied where she was as she felt the bus roll to a stop.

It wasn't difficult to learn the reason why. Washington D.C. was notorious for nightmarish traffic and at four in the afternoon on a Sunday it was no different than any other day. Micah felt a spark of irritation at her luck.

"Naturally the only bus boarding, happened to be bound for trafficpalooza."

Micah's ears picked up the sound of a quiet snicker behind her. She didn't look back but she smiled in response. That's when Micah picked up the different lives around her, all just as stuck with her on gridlocked interstate.

A young teenage couple with piercings and neck tattoos sat across the aisle from her. They had a book of road maps and shared smiles as they made plans. A Hispanic woman behind them made faces at the twin toddlers sharing the seat next to her, Micah smiled at their giggles. And elderly man in front of the young couple held a black and white photograph of a woman with perfectly styled old Hollywood curls in her hair. A twinge of sadness struck Micah as he ran his thumb across her shoulder.

Each in different stages of their lives. The excitement of new love, the glow of motherhood, the agony of burying a piece of one's soul. Micah couldn't say that she didn't want these things and yet she didn't necessarily covet what each of them had. She had a lifetime of her own experiences, she just happened to do them alone and would until the end.

Looking away when the bus began to creep forward until it began to veer off onto an exit. Knowing that she was almost to the next stop she stashed the book in her backpack and hugged it to her chest. Half a second later Micah was thrown forward as the bus's tires screeched to a sudden stop. The passengers gave various levels of cries of surprise and mild freight and Micah stood to see what the cause for the unexpected stop was, dread filling her.

Through the front windshield Micah could see a man positioned directly in front of the bus maybe ten feet away. And the sight of him made Micah's heart speed, panic hummed in her blood. She had expected to see the man from before but what she saw made her blood freeze.

Mid-length dark hair, black weapons attire and numerous firearms and knives strapped to it. That wasn't what made Micah move into flight mode. It was his black mask obscuring his face and the fact that he had a dangerous looking left arm.

And she knew, there was never any doubt that he was there for her.

"No, no, no this was supposed to be over with." She whispered. Her ears picked up the sound of frightened voices and Micah realized that she had put these people's lives in danger. "Everyone get down, whatever you do don't do something stupid." She tried to calm the other passengers.

Most heeded her advice, willing to let someone take the lead and show them what to do. Micah quickly looked around for an escape as the lethal looking man took long strides toward the bus. Looking up she saw an emergency escape hatch and slid the straps of her backpack over her shoulders before releasing the latches.

Looking back out the front windshield she waited until the man was so close that he could no longer be seen. With quick precise movements Micah stood on the back of one of the seats and lifted herself through the emergency hatch. Quietly she closed it and moved to the back of the bus holding her breath as she waited for the right moment to jump down.

The seconds ticked by and for Micah it felt like hours. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears when she felt the slight sway of the bus as someone with heavy footsteps walked toward the end of the bus. Micah looked around at the other streets for an aid to her escape as it wouldn't be long before her location was discovered. The sound of a motorcycle filled the air and she looked around for it wildly.

Coming from the opposite direction was a man in a brown leather jacket and Micah made her decision. Before she could jump the twelve feet to the asphalt a metal fist burst through the escape hatch and Micah glanced back startled.

She watched in fascination as one gloved hand and one metal, hooked over the edge of the exit and he pulled himself out combat boots first and smoothly landed in a crouched position facing her. She felt the fierce gaze even if she couldn't see it through the black mask and the world froze. The setting sun glinted off his metal arm, blinding her.

The sound of the motorcycle approaching broke Micah into action and she jumped from the top of the bus not looking away until she could no longer see the man. The fall was hard with the added weight of her backpack but she immediately began a sprint toward the man on the motorcycle who began to slow at the sight of her.

Maybe it was the desperate look she knew was on her face or maybe he was just curious but Micah felt the breath of relief when he stopped just within her reach.

"Don't say anything, just drive. Now and fast!" she yelled and immediately swung herself onto the back of his motorcycle. Grateful that he didn't waste time by asking questions he instead immediately sped away from the bus. Micah fisted her hands in the loose sides of his jacket and looked over her shoulder to see the man standing on the roof of the bus watching as she disappeared around a corner.

Micah let out a breath and looked forward again.

"Mind telling me where we're going?" the driver called over his shoulder.

Micah was silent as she thought of her options and she came up empty. She had nowhere to go and the thought of this knowledge was difficult to swallow. She instead decided to deflect his perfectly reasonable question with a joke.

"Mexico?" she asked realizing that she was only partially joking.

"You're joking right?"

"No? How about the nearest grocery store?"

"That I can do." He called his answer and took the next left to pull into the parking lot of the market store.

When he pulled to the stop Micah immediately hopped from the back of the motorcycle and offered her hand in thanks. "Thanks for the lift."

He shook her hand firmly. "I'll wait here for you to come back. Seems like you're going to need a ride to somewhere to stay. Steve by the way. Steve Rodgers."

Micah pulled her hand away as her eyes widened in recognition. Blond hair, blue eyes, classic motorcycle. Steve Rodgers, otherwise known as Captain America. Realizing that she was staring rather rudely she pulled the strands of her bangs at the side of her right cheek.

"Please don't! It was enough that you took the time to bring me here with no questions asked." Micah began to feel nervous as she stood out in the open. "I need to go." She whispered and ran for the door of the little store.

"Well this has certainly been an exciting couple of days." She said to herself, looking for the hair product isle. She quickly selected a cheap box of black hair dye and a pair of scissors. Her red hair was beginning to stand out.

The checkout line moved quickly. "Excuse me, where is the restroom?" she asked the teenage cashier.

"The back right corner of the store."

Micah nodded her thanks made her way for the back of the store. "Time for a change."

* * *

Steve pulled back the sleeve of his jacket and checked the time. The woman had been in the store for much longer than he had expected. Focusing on watching the door he frowned. Something had been pulling at the back of his mind since she walked into the store without telling him her name.

She was familiar but he was certain that he had never met her before. Then he began to wonder about what she had been running from. She had seemed nervous and frightened and it wasn't often that a stranger demanded that you drive them to the grocery store. At least he didn't think so.

He had wanted to question her, ask her why he was allowing a stranger onto his motorcycle but the urgency in her demand that he drive told him he'd better listen. She must have had a good reason.

When fifteen minutes turned into twenty five, Steve really began to grow concerned and quickly walked into the store. His first stop was the cashier after a quick glance around he failed to see the woman.

"Pardon me but have you seen a woman with red hair? She had a backpack." He asked the cashier.

The teenager didn't look up from her task of stocking a candy display but nodded toward the back of the store. "Yea she went to the restroom."

"Thank you." And Steve went in the direction of the store indicated. The sight of the door hanging crookedly on its hinges spurred Steve into a run. Something was wrong. There was no one in the bathroom; only a backpack and what looked to be an open bottle of hair dye lying on its side, the coloring dripping down the side of the sink. More concerning though was the pair of scissors covered in blood and sticking out of the wall by the mirror.

Immediately Steve went back into the store and searched for clues to what happened to the woman. Whatever it was it had to be bad. There was an emergency exit near the bathroom and he quickly swung the door open to find an empty alley save for a cat napping on top of a trashcan.

He looked for a blood trail or any sign of a struggle but there was none. The woman was gone.

Back in the bathroom Steve threw away the bottle of hair dye and cleaned up the miss it had made. He threw the bloodied scissors away and picked up the woman's backpack considering what he should do now. Deciding to wait until he reached his apartment to look for clues in the bag he went back to the cashier.

"This is for the damage in the bathroom." He said and handed the dumbstruck cashier a fifty dollar bill.

When he was in his apartment he sat the backpack on his dining table and stared at it for a moment. He felt as if he would be intruding on this woman's privacy, these were her belongings, and if he were to guess they were all she had in the world.

However his instinct to help someone who was quite possibly in very real danger won out and he unzipped the first pocket. Inside he found three books, one that looked to be of the scandalous nature, one curiously enough written in all Russian, and a time aged photo album. He set it aside to look at once he'd had a first glance at all of the bags contents.

Several items of clothing, a small locked case, a velvet drawstring bag with a necklace of pearls and that was it. Steve wondered if she might have just been traveling. Only there was nothing in the bag to identify her. Frowning he picked up the photo album and studied the pictures.

They were black and white and it wasn't difficult to place the woman's face with the teenager in some of the photographs with what looked to be her family. Either she looked very much like her grandmother or this was the same person.

Steve began to rapidly scan the pictures on each page until one had him frozen in near shock. There was the familiar smile of Howard Stark, his arm thrown around the shoulders of the girl dressed in graduation robes. Without looking away from the color faded picture he pulled his cellphone from the pocket of his jacket and pressed the button to dial Tony.

"Hello Capsicle! You finally ready for me to introduce you to the Vegas showgirls?" Steve heard the teasing laughter in his friend's voice.

"Actually I wanted to know when you were going to be in DC next."

"I can be there now. Why? Did you forget how to set up the Blu-ray?"

"I've stumbled across something that you're going to want to see."

"You know I love it when you ignore my wit. Makes me want to work that much harder to get you to acknowledge my fantastic sense of humor. Have the bourbon ready in thirty." And Steve set his phone down at the sound of the connection cutting off.

* * *

"Put her in the back room. Be sure her restraints are secure." Pierce told the soldier before looking at the woman he had brought it. "I expect you to follow the asset and be on your best behavior. And when I come to you we're going to have a nice long chat."

The woman didn't speak, only kept her glare on him as he wrapped a hand around her arm and guided her forward until they were in the secure room. Before he could release her arm she jerked herself free and walked to the far corner of the room. He watched carefully as she leaned against the wall and slid down to sit on the ground, her zip tied hands hanging across her knees.

From her subdued position the soldier found it unlikely that she was of any threat and turned to the cabinet on the opposite side of the woman's corner. Here he removed the googles and the mask, setting them both inside. He removed each knife and gun before removing his weapons jacket and the shirt beneath and turned to sit in one of the chairs in the center of the room.

"I've seen you before." The woman said and he stared at her through the strands that had fallen across his eyes. " _Tyran, Tsar'."_ She said in Russian. "I can see why you didn't just buy the book. I suppose your friend doesn't have much in the way of cozy places to enjoy light reading."

A memory of the bookstore he visited the day before played through his mind. Green eyes peering around a stack of books piled high and a warm voice. The sound of her humming followed him. Without his control the memory shifted to how he had come to be in the shop.

Another mission, another success, guilt, and confusion. His disguise had been provided by Pierce in order to complete his mission. To make the world better he had to kill a man at a baseball game. He didn't know why this particular man but there had not been any complications.

Afterward he wandered the streets of the city until the book store caught his attention. He didn't know that she would become his next mission.

The woman, the one Pierce had called Red Fox, continued to glare at him only she was silent again. He wanted to tell her to keep his visit to the bookstore a secret but he knew he had no right to ask her that.

"Does that hurt?" She asked, staring at the small cut in his right shoulder where she had stabbed him. He didn't answer her, confused by her concern. The soldier looked down at his right shoulder, the bleeding was gone and he hadn't noticed it before she mentioned the wound. Looking back at her he found she let her legs slip until they were sprawled flat on the floor.

"It appears we have something in common." She said and lifted the sleeve of her shirt covering her left arm. There was a bold red star, identical to his and more questions were raised in his racing mind. His breathing quickened slightly until the relaxed way she sat tightened when the door to the room opened he turned to see Pierce walked in along with Rumlow. He forced his breathing into calmness.

The older man had a smile and he ignored the soldier, completely focused on the new arrival.

"I'm happy to see you've made yourself comfortable Miss… what is it you call yourself now? Nova? Yes Micah Nova. Lovely name, adorable really. I admire your play on names." Pierce sat in a chair pulled next to Micah Nova. "Since this is your first day with us here at Hydra I'm going to ignore the fact that you damaged the asset with… what did the asset report Rumlow?"

"Scissors."

"Yes that was it. Scissors. I admire your tenacity. On the run for going on seventy years and once you were finally found you gave both Agent Rumlow here and the asset-"

"Why do you keep calling him that? The asset."

"-the slip. Now I want to know what you can really do-"

"Are you in the business of taking peoples identities from them?"

"-if you fail to cooperate-"

"Go ahead. I don't have anyone I love so you can't hold that over me and I'm not afraid to die-"

"-I will strip you of your memories, your identities- all three of them- and order you to hunt and kill your sister."

The soldier studied the woman. It seemed as if Pierce had finally caught her attention. He wanted to tell her not to fight Pierce. As someone who had lost his memories, name, who he was, he knew just how devastating it was to wake up and find a black emptiness in your mind where there had once been all of that. But she wasn't worried about that.

"M-my sister? You know her?" The soldier detected a slight tremble in her voice and silently urged her to hide her weakness.

"Now my interest in you comes from the fact that you are very good at disappearing. Your lack of concern for your wellbeing aids you in that and makes you a very valuable asset to what Hydra is seeking to achieve."

"And what's that? A lovely rooftop garden on every skyscraper… Or what about a basket of kittens on every doorstep?"

Pierce gave a hollow chuckle and slowly stood to standing. "We want a world secure and safe. What the KGB began with you Mikka we will finish. Your training with the asset begins immediately." Pierce then turned to look at the soldier. "I want a report every ten hours. Your success in training her is paramount to the success in shaping the world."

The soldier watched as Pierce and Rumlow left the room, the door slamming behind them before the woman named Mikka could say another word.

"You touch me and it will be the last thing you ever do." Mikka said quietly, bringing his attention back to her. There was a flood of questions he wanted to ask her but he couldn't put them together. Questions he didn't understand.

"I have been given a mission." He said simply, hoping she would understand.

She sat silent for a moment afterward, watching him before she nodded. "I think I have a mission as well. What's your name?"

He searched his mind but came back with muted memories. It was frustrating so he didn't say anything at all.

"Do you want me to call you anything? And please don't say asset, that word is disgusting."

He searched his memory for a name. It seemed important to her that she have something to call him. There weren't many names he could think of.

"What do you think of the name Jim? My favorite actor is James Dean and his character Jim in Rebel Without a Cause. Oh! Or there's Paul Newman. But you don't seem like-" she cut off when he abruptly stood up and took long strides to stand over her. He could see she was nervous when he pulled a small knife from the inside of his boot and swiftly cut her hands free.

She looked from her hands back up into his eyes her eyes turned dark green.

"James." He said. "Call me James."


	4. Chapter 4

Dukh Krasnyy

(Spirit of Red)

Anger, jealousy, pain, and confusion. All were emotions Tony was feeling at that exact moment as Steve handed him the photo album. He had arrived with his usual cocky grin and sarcastic wit. His humor had disappeared with the first photo of his mother as a very young woman on the first page. There was picture after picture of his family, pictures of him and an aunt he could hardly remember.

"Where did you get this Rodgers." He said in a voice that contained his very emotional state.

"A woman running from something got on the back of my motorcycle and told me to drive. She seemed to be in trouble so that's what I did. Took her to a grocery store just like she asked. Never gave her name just went inside and didn't come out. I grew concerned and went to find her. All I found though was her bag of belongings and a pair of scissors covered in blood imbedded in a wall." Steve said quickly watchful of his friend's reaction.

"That's it?"

"That's it. She was gone and then I saw these photos of Howard- your father-"

"Where are the scissors? I want them analyzed. I want to say it's impossible that it's the same woman. She should be in her nineties. Like you. But after meeting you and seeing the things that I've seen… I can't say reasonably that it's not."

Steve hesitated a moment, wondering if he truly had the right to ask this of the other man. Tony seemed to be taking this news surprisingly well.

"Tony… do you know her name?"

Toney nodded silently staring at the photograph of a beautiful and smiling woman. The arm of his father around her shoulder on what was obviously her graduation day. A memory floated into his mind of an old framed master's diploma from MIT. Tony fought back a spark of jealousy at the approval in his father's eyes.

Turning the page there was another photograph that made all the anger and jealousy melt away. The same beautiful woman, the same smile and the same love in her eyes as she gazed at the dark headed toddler in her arms, his pudgy fingers wrapped around a strand of pearls.

"My mysterious Aunt Micah."

* * *

A plate of steamed vegetables, grilled chicken, and boiled potatoes had just been delivered to what Mikka now thought of as the waiting room, were sat on the floor next to Mikka as she continued to stare at "James" warily. It had been some time since he made the declaration that that was what he wished to be called. She had been struck silent by the intensity of his eyes. The icy blue color were windows to what looked like an eternity of confusion and turmoil. There was something important about this name, it was easy to see.

She had made a thorough examination of everyone she had come across since the hood obscuring her sight had been removed after her arrival at the Hydra base. Especially him, and she couldn't deny the aesthetic appeal of the man. She had come across many tantalizing men in her nine decades of living but few were both handsome and surprisingly captivating.

His ice blue eyes that were more expressive than he was probably aware of, she had picked up hints of confusion, defiance, and worry instead of blankness. A mess of dark brown hair that was more starving artist than assassin. A tall and well-toned body made more interesting by the many scars that crossed his chest, back, and right arm not to mention the metal arm at his side, metallic fingers holding his own plate of questionable food.

The long ago buried engineer in Mikka wanted to know about his prosthetic. Was interested in the technology behind it. Mikka watched him walk back to his chair with his own plate of the same food and begin to eat.

His long hair made a curtain around has he kept his plate close to his face, almost as if he were protecting it from being taken. A long ago memory of her, her sister and the other orphan girls eating their meager meals in complete silence, hovering close to their plate much in the same manner as him.

Mikka wanted to hate him. She wanted to hate him for capturing her and bringing her here, for holding power over her, for reminding her of her past. But as she watched him hold his fork with his fist as if it were more a weapon instead of a utensil for eating she felt her resolve softening.

"It took me years to stop eating like you." She said and picked up her plate. "In the… Red Room if you wanted to eat you had to fight for it. Learning to hold my fork with my fingers rather than my fist… one of the hardest things I had to do when I got out of there."

James didn't answer her though he did slow his eating for a moment and she could see his eyes through the strands of hair. She didn't expect him to answer or tell his own story but something in her wanted him to know that he wasn't alone in something.

After a few bites of her meal Mikka set it aside. "This food is awful. Please tell me there is variety to the menu." She muttered to no one in particular and stood to stretch. "So how is this going to go? Training me that is." She wasn't certain what she was going to do just yet but she knew she was going to get out of this prison. And James was going to help her even if he didn't know it yet.

James set aside his plate and walked to the door and held it open for her. "I need to know what you can and cannot do."

Putting her hands in her pockets she cautiously leaned out the door, checking both directions for hostile soldiers. A singular man stood across the hall from their door an assault rifle resting in his palms. Mikka noticed the way his hands tightened on the gun and his eyes narrowed on James. She looked over her shoulder to see if James had a likewise reaction but he seemed at ease.

She followed the direction he indicated and held her shoulders straight, her chin high. Eyes watchful of possible escape routes. There was the air ducts hanging from the ceilings, vents high on the walls, killing one of the guards and taking their uniforms. Many possibilities. She did her best to remember the turns they were taking and trying to keep track of how long it was taking them to reach their destination.

There were doors with retina scans and cameras, stairs to elevated pathways, and no windows. The moisture in the air reminded Mikka of a cave that went deep underground. There was an earthy taste to it.

After three hundred and eighty six seconds James opened the double doors at the end of one of the many corridors and waited for Mikka to step through. Inside was a training room equipped with weights, striking mannequins, targets, ranges for bows and guns, a suspicious looking mirror, and sparring mats. Everything was in black and red and Mikka hated it on sight. This was a place that Pierce hoped would break her.

There were several others using the training room but they immediately left when James stepped in front of her and folded his arms. Mikka curled her lip in a sneer when one of them purposefully let his eyes wander her body, he gave an amused smirk before walking through the doors and allowed them to slam shut.

"Do you outrank them?" Mikka asked looking up at James and then she heard the lock slide into place on the other side of the doors. "Never mind. Curious." Stepping around him she inspected the room. Testing the weapons locker and finding it unsurprisingly locked with a passcode. Easy enough to break into when the time came. She had just turned to look at the mannequins when a movement from the corner of her eye had her whirling into a low dodge, an arm of flesh swinging past where her chest had been.

"What the hell are you doing?" She cried and took steps backward. James turned to face her, if she could say there was any expression on his face then she would say it was blank coldness. He took a stepped toward her.

"It is time to see what you know."

"Ok I get that. But I'm not going to fight you." She barely got to say before she saw another swing coming for her and she dropped to her knees and crawled a couple of paces before standing again to back away.

"You will." He said and pursued her again. This time she was unable to dodge but managed to get her forearm up to block the blow. The force was not as strong as she thought it would have been as if he were holding back his strength but still she stumbled back a step.

"I will not do it!" she said through her teeth and pushed his right arm away only to find herself knocked sideways into the wall by his left arm. She saw the frustration replacing his coldness and she attempted to block his knee from connecting with her side. But she never tried to strike him.

"Why will you not fight back!" he said, punctuating with another blow toward her side and Mikka was relieved that she had a tolerance for pain.

"Because I don't think of you as my enemy James. What they want to do to me they did to you right? Stole your memories, your identity? I see you and I don't see someone who wants to be here anymore than I do." Mikka said between heavy breaths. She may not feel the pain but she could feel her body trying to keep up with him and she was beginning to fall behind.

James stared at her through a few of his strands that fell forward. She thought maybe he was considering her words, would perhaps see her as an ally. She tensed and pushed herself against the wall, ready to block herself when he stepped up close to her. She could feel his breath brushing her hair on her neck and the feeling brought a surprising calmness.

"If you do not fight me that is what they will do to you." He said quietly.

Mikka looked up to meet his eyes and mustered up a crooked smile. "I am not afraid. I know who I am and I believe that I will be able to find my way back. Do you know who you are?"

He held her eyes for a long moment and turned away when the doors swung open and Pierce, Rumlow, and two other gun-wielding agents walked in. The immediately aimed at James and aggressively approached him until he backed away.

"Hey! What are you doing? We were doing something you know." Mikka cried out in surprise, confused on why they were sticking automatics in James' face. When they had him a good distance from Mikka they turned their attention to her and she blinked at them owlishly.

"You disappoint me Mikka. I told you what would happen in the event that you failed to cooperate with us. It seems too much time in the world has made you strong willed. While that is very admirable, I'm afraid that it will not be a useful trait for you here." Pierce said, his face falsely apologetic as if he had been looking for the smallest reason to give this particular order. "Rumlow, if you please?"

Mikka narrowed her eyes at Rumlow as he drew his handgun from his side and aimed it between her eyes. "In front of me with hands on your head, now project Red Fox!"

She looked to her side toward James and her heart clenched at the worry in his eyes. She began to feel afraid but gave him a small smile, something in her wanting to comfort him though it was her that was about to be destroyed this time. Another thing they would have in common.

* * *

James kept his eyes on Mikka as he followed her and Rumlow from the training room, Pierce and the other two behind himself so close he could almost feel the rifles aimed at his back. He felt sick as he watched Rumlow hold the pistol to her head and wanted to shake her for ignoring their orders. There was a reason you did what you were told here.

James didn't know how many times he had sat in the chair that Mikka was now being strapped to, the metal braces wrapping around her arms and legs. He just remembered the headache that came afterward and a void inside. He could see fear in the way her breathing increased, the way she searched her restraints for weakness. Her eyes moved around the room until they found him and he couldn't look away.

Rumlow shoved a mouth guard in her mouth, slapping her across the cheek when she bit him hard enough to draw blood in the process. James nearly forgot where he was, his instinct to protect her suddenly roared within him but she laughed around the mouth guard. The fury in Rumlow's face turned him red and without any further warning he pulled the lever that laid the chair back.

The device moved into place on Mikka's head and her body bowed with tension, muscles locked. James felt sick horror deep inside of him at the sight. This was what had been done to him, and he was allowing it to happen to as far as he could tell an innocent woman. He couldn't tell if she was in pain for she didn't scream. Then as the seconds ticked by she began to whimper, the noise of the machine barely obscuring them.

James couldn't look away but he felt his control slipping until he was reminded of what was at stake when Pierce joined his side, his arms crossed and a pleased smile on his face.

"Enjoying the show? Mikka Romanova, Mikka Carbonell, and Micah Nova are all gone and now she is left with project Red Fox. Do not fail me again." He said as the sound of the machine began to quiet and the chair moved back to the upright position.

Mikka's muscles were still taught and her breathing was still heavy. Eyes rolling wildly and unfocused she blinked them quickly when Pierce addressed the medical officer who was monitoring Mikka's vitals.

"Clear her and get them to their cells." He ordered and looked at Mikka, giving her one last look. "Begin again at 4 am." And he left the room, Rumlow following closely.

James waited for a nod from the medical officer, affirming that Mikka was ready to go, before he stepped up to her and pulled her up to standing. She didn't seem to notice the soldiers at their backs for she stared at him as they walked, sometimes she stumbled against his side and he had to stop to wait for her to find her balance. A walk to their cells which normally would be rather quick was much longer and he could hear their escorts growing frustration.

He stood in shock when he stole a glance toward Mikka and she winked at him. Frozen in front of the door leading to his room, watching as Mikka was pushed through the door across from his. He only stepped inside when the soldiers used the rifles to push him back and they locked the door.

James remained standing for a long time, eyes locked on his door, his thoughts racing.

* * *

A/N Sorry that this one was a tad shorter. I just felt this was a good place to leave it hanging *wink*


	5. Chapter 5

Vozvrashcheniye Mikka

(Return of Mikka)

Russia 1933

Matching strawberry hair and grass green eyes, they walked down a dry cracked dirt road. Once pretty dresses were now covered in filth, their hair ribbons lost long ago lay on the side of the dirt road miles behind them. Hands clasped tightly together, they slowly left the starving city of their home behind.

"The orphanage taking kids in can't be much further _sestra_ ," the slightly taller girl said.

The smaller girl looked over her shoulder with a sniff as another stab of hunger caused her to rub a fist across her tear streaked cheek. Behind them lay chaos. Neighbor turned against neighbor, family against family… a father selling his daughters for grain and meat.

"It's not fair." Mikka said with a childlike whimper. She looked forward when her sister pulled her to a stop.

"Mikka we need to hide." She whispered and pulled her down into the bushes.

"I can't see, what's happening," Mikka whispered, trying to peer around her sisters hands covering her mouth and eyes.

"It's alright, he can't find us here now be quiet."

Mikka finally shrugged her sisters dirt covered fingers from her eyes enough to watch a middle aged man with a thick beard, and a red face. Immediately Mikka pressed her back against her sister, welcoming the strength she received as the man from their nightmares stalked past their hiding spot.

"Are you ready to disappear?" Her sister whispered.

With her eyes locked on the man's back Mikka bit her lip and nodded silently, another tear trailing down her cheek.

* * *

Present Day

Mikka slowly awakened, opening her eyes fully expecting to find herself still that little girl running away from famine and cruelty, her sister at her side. It was almost a relief to find herself surrounded by four walls made of cement and a door locked with a key pad.

Pushing herself to sitting on the cot, her back against the wall and legs resting over the edge Mikka played the memories through her mind. Strapped to a chair with incredible looking technology, and fighting panic as she realized that she truly was freighted by what Pierce was doing to her.

Looking into blue eyes that were mere hours before empty and emotionless, but were now horrified. And Mikka knew she didn't want to lose herself, she didn't want her memories ripped away from her.

"Subject codename Red Fox stand and face the back wall with your hands on your head." A voice echoed through the small barred opening at face level in the door. Mikka suddenly realized that she had a decision to make and fast. Did she let on that they had failed to brainwash her or did she go along and act as if it had been a success.

"Subject codename Red Fox, stand and face the back wall with your hands on your head or force will be used."

Before he finished repeating his order Mikka had decided to go with acting. It would buy her some time and she didn't truly understand why she still had her memories and didn't wish to risk another 'treatment' so soon.

Once she was in the ordered position the agent entered the key code, Mikka counting the number of times the keys made a beep. With the door opened and the barrel of an assault rifle trained on her she was given the order to leave the cell. She caught the eyes watching her through the bars in the cell across the hall.

There had to be a reason his memories were gone and hers were not, maybe it meant there was a way to help him. She didn't have time to consider the emotion in those icy eyes before the cold barrel of the agents gun was nudged into her shoulder and she walked down the corridor. Using the walk to focus her mind she kept her face blank, resisting the urge to wipe her sweaty palms on her jeans.

She realized that she was hungry, a particular feeling that she detested, in dire need of a hot shower, a toothbrush with a gallon of mouthwash, and the urgent matter of using the local Hydra prison toilet. In her usual state she would have complained and made an aggressive comment or two until her needs were met. Her present state though meant that she had to bite her tongue and bide her time.

"Have the subject undress and sit over there and then you may leave." A woman dressed in a white medical coat and gold rimmed glasses gestured to one of the stainless steel tables in the room Mikka had been prodded into. It took every ounce of willpower and strength to keep her hands from shaking, to show no emotion as she peeled each item of clothing from her body.

Mikka could feel eyes on her and she had the urge to cover herself and to scream at the woman and the agent, letting them know that she was not okay with this. But she no longer was supposed to have her own mind so she bit her tongue and kept her eyes focused on the wall, folding her dirty and winkled clothes neatly and set them on the floor in a stack.

Once the order had been followed and Mikka was seated the, what she guessed was Hydra's resident medical advisor, approached her with a tray of various tools and instruments.

Not a single word was spoken in the first half of the exam. Blood pressure was checked, eye dilation, teeth examined, blood drawn, a look at her once fractured leg, the examination went on and on. The doctor wrote every detail she found on her clipboard, examined every scar and poked every freckle before picking up a new clip board and nodded to a cabinet.

"Dress yourself, and I will begin."

Relief melted in Mikka's blood and she struggled to keep calm after nearly dropping the black t-shirt. To her dismay there wasn't a bra and the briefs were made for men but the black sweatpants were welcomed. Not finding socks or shoes Mikka returned to her seat barefoot.

The doctor watched her over the rim of her glasses and clicked her pin.

"What is today's date?" She asked.

Mikka met her watchful eyes and gave her a mildly confused look.

"Your name, age, hometown, parent's names, siblings, spouse, children, occupation, blood type, college degree, do you speak any other languages?"

Mikka let her eyes search around as if searching for answers. "Subject codename Red Fox and… I think I can speak Russian, and a small amount of German. The rest I don't remember. Is something wrong with me?"

The doctor leaned very close and stared into Mikka's eyes.

"You will answer to Red Fox once the right has been granted. Until then you are an asset. Pierce will be pleased that you have reflexive memories like the other asset. That means the training period will be shorter." She leaned back and began to write on her clipboard. "As for the rest, if you had any they are gone."

Mikka wanted to make a snide comment about her blood type being erased as well but swallowed the words.

"I'm clearing you for training. Outside you will find Agent Kurtz and he will take over."

The doctor barely had the last word out before Mikka stood and quickly walked for the door. The woman hadn't been necessarily cruel to her but she hadn't been the most pleasant of experiences for her either.

In the hall Mikka found Young and to her annoyance it was the same man from yesterday in the training room. At his inappropriate looking smirk she hid her eye roll by turning to the side. As they walked he told her what her life was going to be like.

"My sincere pleasure to welcome you to Hydra, asset. Each day training will begin at four am. Then, if you did well, you will eat breakfast in the mess hall. If you did poorly- to be determined by me of course, you will eat in your room. Then back to work until evening meal, same circumstances on where. Showers will be awarded conditionally." Mikka could feel the hidden message in her bones and tried not to shudder. His voice was of European accent which normally Mikka found to be pleasant. His however made her cringe. "When you return to your room after first meal you will find uniforms and as long as you follow orders your door will remain unlocked. This gives you free reign to use the latrine. This is the mess hall, you have fifteen."

Mikka watched him with narrowed eyes as he walked away, but not before he ran a finger down her arm, making her skin crawl. She let out a light growl before taking in her surroundings. The room was large enough for a school bus yard, high ceilings and industrial sized fans slowly spinning. Walls bare and free of windows, table after table, each crowded with men and women dressed in black. A long table with food and servers dishing out to agents holding trays.

"This is absurd." Mikka whispered before a new stab of hunger sent her walking quickly after Kurtz and the end of the line, a curse on her lips. She wanted to sneer at him when he looked over his shoulder to stare at her but she kept her face appropriately blank. After a moment his attention focused on something else and hatred replaced the sickly sweet smile.

When Kurtz turned to face the server Mikka glanced behind her and couldn't help the way her breath caught in her throat. There was James, all cold eyes and messy artist hair, black shirt and glinting metal arm staring at Kurtz with no emotion.

Mikka had to look away before she made a wrong move but there was so much she wanted to say to him. He was probably the only one that wouldn't betray her but she had to know for sure. She wanted believe that he was as much a prisoner as her but she just didn't know anymore. Thinking back on it, her wink the night before had probably been impulsive and could have cost her another trip to the brainwash chair.

With tray of more questionable food in hand Mikka walked on instinct to the empty table in the far corner of the room and began to eat quickly. It was a moment later that the sound of a tray landing on the table with a thump had her looking up to watch James sit at the other end of the table on the opposite side.

He didn't acknowledge her presence and when he began to eat she went back to her own.

* * *

Tony wanted to break something, namely the speakers installed throughout Stark Tower that allowed Jarvis to be heard.

"Run the test again. And go back even further on those surveillance videos."

"Sir the test results on the blood remains positive for male DNA but there were traces of the metal AISI 4130." Jarvis said in a useful tone.

Tony considered this information while he stared at the information Jarvis uploaded onto the viewing screen in the laboratory. "Give me a list of its uses." He read a quick overview. "Aircraft? Is this guy a jet transformer?" Sarcasm dripping thick.

"If I may expand on your theory sir-"

"No Jarvis you may not."

"Sir perhaps your aunt's abductor has a bionic limb, or-"

"Did you widen the search range for those surveillance images? And while you're at it I want a complete list of men with amputated body parts for forty years back. You know what make it sixty."

"It will take some time to compile a database sir-"

"Focus on military and coverts first and I'll see if anything stands out. And dial Capsicle and put him through to my car. I need to drive something fast." Tony tuned away and rolled the sleeves of his shirt down and picked up his sunglasses.

"Why not just takeout a suit sir?"

"I tend to find trouble when I'm out and about so I promised Pepper I'd give her a couple days of peace," he said a roll of the eyes he didn't really mean.

"I see sir. Which car should I send the call to?"

"I need to put the One-77 through her paces. I want to know the moment that database is ready."

* * *

James could see frustration in the rigid way the new asset held her fighting stance. And he was growing frustrated trying to get her to fight back. He knew she would be a formidable opponent if she would simply give in. She managed to dodge most of his blows, deflected many more, but the hits that did land made a sickening sound and the guilt began to build inside of him.

If she would hit him back he would at least feel as if he weren't attacking someone helpless. It didn't matter that she didn't seem hurt or scared of him. Already he was holding back on her, not bad enough to even leave a bruise… he hoped.

She dodged another elbow to the chin but missed his knee coming up into her side and she stumbled back against the wall and James sighed quietly. She leaned her palms on her knees and watched him through her red hair. James didn't notice that he was frowning while he struggled to find a way to get through her stubbornness.

* * *

Swallowing thickly Mikka watched as James stalked toward her, a frustrated frown and flashing blue eyes. Against her will she admired the way he walked- well really stomped as if he were in a tantrum. All swinging arms and hips. Her eyes widened when he reached her and his metal hand gripped her shoulder tightly and pushed her up and back against the wall, his other hand holding her around the throat.

'So this is it, time for him to bring out the big guns finally and actually inflict some damage. Wait why isn't he squeezing? Why-' she thought. Her eyes searched his face for answers for why he wasn't choking her and merely resting his hand on her neck.

"Do you wish to starve?" he said so quietly she barely heard. "Do not talk but listen."

Mikka realized what he was doing and lifted her hands to wrap around his forearm as she listened. She found it strangely difficult to focus on anything other than his lips moving.

"You will be denied food, denied water, denied everything and you will suffer for it if you do not fight back." Mikka opened her mouth to say there had to be another way but his grip on her shoulder tensed in reminder. "I said do not speak-"

He cut off when Mikka slammed the heel of her boot onto the toe of his and pushed him back. "I considered killing you with a pencil in that book store," she hissed at him. "I'm considering it again. Sick and tired of people telling me what to do. Looking at me like I'm some insect. I don't like being threatened with starvation-" Mikka cut of long enough to lung at James.

She felt the wind whip at her ponytail as he caught her shoulders and used the back of his leg behind hers to throw her on the floor. Mikka luckily remembered to fist her hands in his t-shirt and plant a boot in his chest and vault him over onto his back. Going off of more adrenaline than strength she pushed her feet into the air following his momentum and pulled herself to sitting on his chest with her knee pressed under his chin.

Mikka smiled down at him despite her heavy breathing, pleasure at her accomplishment radiating from her. "I can't… believe… that I can… still do- oof!" Her grunt was loud when James hooked his boot under her chin and pushed her onto her back once more.

This time it was his knee in her chest and he ignored her glare and the way she pushed at his knee. "You need conditioning before we train you further. This is a setback. Follow me to the equipment room." And he smoothly stood up and towered over her.

After a long moment he slowly offered his hand. Mikka stared at it. His hand was lightly tanned and calloused, and there were scars covering his knuckles. Looking from his hand to his eyes she found answers to earlier questions. Would he reveal that she was still her own person? Why wasn't he trying to hurt her, to choke her when he had been given- no even encouraged to do so?

He was her ally and if she accepted his hand, she was his ally in return. Mikka took a breath and slipped her hand in his and he pulled her swiftly to standing. The moment she was steady he dropped her hand and walked away. With a shake of her head she jogged to catch up to him.

* * *

James wasn't sure exactly what he was doing. Something told him that Pierce would be displeased if he knew the rebellious thoughts he was having. He didn't want the woman to suffer. Didn't want to hear her muffled whimpers of pain as starvation overcame her.

He frowned once more as he remembered the smile he hid when he pinned her to the floor the second time. She had been so pleased, a smile that reached her eyes and out of breath. James admitted to himself that she had taken him by surprise when she had turned the tables on him and he had ended up with her knee in his throat. The feeling had been… oddly exhilarating, the challenge in her eyes he found irresistible.

He glanced at her when she reached his side. He wasn't sure what to call her. Calling her asset like he had been ordered felt… wrong. He had heard her referred to as Micah and its Russian counterpart Mikka. Deciding that she was owed the same courtesy that he had been given he let the decision rest with her.

"What am I to call you?" he asked quietly. He briefly held her gaze for moment before she frowned and looked away, blowing her hair from her eyes.

"I've been Micah for so long… but that's who I was when I was running from who I became. I can't run anymore thanks to you."

James picked out a note of resentment in her tone. "You were a mission-" he cut off when she shook her head and he thought better of defending himself and dropped it.

"Every second that I'm here brings out more and more of the old me. Reminding me of the things I had to do… But really I've always been Mikka. Like when I thought about stabbing my pencil into first your femoral artery and then your neck."

"Mikka then." He paused walking to open a door and waited for her to walk through. "For a warm up we will begin with ten miles running." He missed the way her eyes bulged and her jaw dropping comically as he studied the control panels on the treadmill.

As he worked out which buttons to push a memory of running on one these machines, a mask with tubes stapped over his nose and mouth. A thick Russian voice ordering to run faster-

"You can't be serious- I can barely think about running that far without collapsing." Mikka hissed from his side. He looked down to find her glaring at him with her hands on her hips.

"I am serious. You seem to withstand pain well. The pain of exercise should not be any different."

"That- well that is not the point! I still lose my breath and get tired-"

James watched silently as she continued to go on. She put on a spectacular show of flashing eyes and furious words and he had a distinct urge to find a way to quiet her before she was overheard. She had retained her memories but there was no certainty that the next time she be as successful.

"And who's to say that my amazing pain threshold won't suddenly disappear if you try and run me to death-"

James stepped close and used both hands to hold her shoulders tightly. She stopped speaking and stared up wide eyed. He felt the corner of his mouth twitch as he felt amusement when she tried to glare at him again but he spun her around and pushed her onto the moving running belt of the treadmill.

"Run."

"I don't like to run unless I have a good reason." She said with a pout.

James stepped onto his own machine and tried to think of something to help her. The way Kurtz looked at her flashed in his mind and he frowned.

"Run as if Kurtz were chasing you." He looked over at her scoff.

"I wouldn't run from that prick."

He felt a small touch of pride at her fearlessness. He didn't understand why but he acknowledged that it was there. "Run as if he's running from you then." There was a warm feeling in his blood that joined the feelings of pride when she glanced over with a grin.

"You're on."

* * *

A/N Thank you guys so much for all the love! It warms me up that yall are falling as fast for Mikka as it feels like Bucky is and likewise her for him. Any guesses on what's going down in the next chapter?


	6. Chapter 6

Shtorm Sobirayet

(The Storm Gathers)

Days melted into weeks and weeks melted into an indefinable time. Hours meant nothing when they were filled with becoming someone that should have been buried long ago. Mikka felt the change that came over her mind and body. She was undoubtedly stronger than before, that didn't matter to her. It was something she had needed to do anyways if she were to survive.

It was pretending to be the mindless asset that Hydra wanted that was frightening her. Most days she did well enough to earn her meals and showers. However there were the days where she didn't shoot straight enough or best one of the random Hydra agents in a sparring match or even not responding to Kurtz's disgusting advances quick enough and she would go without.

Locked in her room with her back against the door for what had to be days at a time. Until Kurtz was ready to forgive her, and she would start from the beginning once more and work to earn his favor. During these times of isolation Mikka would think over every hallway and corner, every door and every Hydra agent.

Every time there would be the sound of someone approaching and Mikka couldn't help but stand to watch as James room was unlocked and he was ordered to exit.

He always met her for that brief moment of eye contact before turning away to continue his training without her. He was the only speck of light she could hold onto in the darkness of the underground prison. They were together for most of the day every day. Him instructing her and watching her progress, their meals while spent at the same table were filled with silence but it wasn't difficult for Mikka to enjoy it all the same.

The last several decades of her life had been spent eating her meals in silence. They rarely had a moment alone so they learned to communicate with their eyes. Hers narrowed in annoyance when he told her to do something she didn't particularly want to do and his would show the slightest hint of amusement in return.

It wasn't until one morning that he wasn't there that Mikka realized how much she relied on him to get her through to the next day. Their day had started with the normal routine of running before first meal and on through until they were seated at their usual table for the last meal. Mikka wasn't enjoying the once again bland meal of what was meant to be spaghetti but was instead a wad of sticky noodles, tomato paste, and a single meatball. She found more enjoyment from watching James eat his own meal with complete gusto.

How he managed to eat without getting the tomato sauce on his face she didn't know but it was amusing to watch the serious man with the intimidating mechanical arm slurp down a noodle just like any other human on the planet. Mikka fought a smile when the sounds he was making with the noodles continued.

So absorbed with watching James eat the less than edible spaghetti she failed to notice the approach of Rumlow behind her until James looked first at her and then to the man behind her. She remembered to hold back her look of hatred before he noticed.

"Pierce wants to see you immediately." Rumlow said with no other information given.

Mikka watched with a hint of worry as James stood while still chewing his last bite, picked up his tray of half eaten spaghetti and followed Rumlow from the mess hall, disposing of his leftovers on the way out. Over the course of the time she had been here she rarely saw either Rumlow or even less than that; Pierce. She knew that nothing good would come from this rather sudden meeting.

Mikka had waited by her door that first evening, waiting for James to return to his room for the night but he never did. As the night wore on she fell lightly asleep on the floor with her back against the door and dreamed of a little girl wishing for a horse as white as winter and taking her sister into the western sunset. It was an old dream of hers, one that she had often.

When she awoke, Kurtz was pushing against her door and ordering her to stand. Fighting back a yawn she stumbled to her feet. Blinking watery eyes and ignoring the irritation in the agent's voice she remembered why she was still in her clothes from the day before and sleeping by the door.

Finally obeying Kurtz and standing in the hallway she still found no sign of James and her worry began to grow even more. Mikka struggled to hold her silence but when they reached the training room and there was still no grumpy looking trainer she looked back toward Kurtz.

"Where is… the other asset?" Referring to James as the asset left a sour taste in her mouth.

She didn't have long to think about it however, as the second she finished her question the backhand of Kurtz left hand connected with her cheek and the force spun her around to her knees. It didn't hurt but that didn't stop anger from boiling in Mikka's blood.

He looked down his thin nose at her with a twisted smirk. "That's of no concern to you. But you don't need to worry. We have something special planned. The boss has decided that you are strong enough to explore a few ideas he's had. Now get up and move."

Mikka slowly stood, her anger turning to dread as old memories of the Red Room experiments haunted her.

* * *

Another mission. Weeks spent in planning the elaborate assassination of a man with an eyepatch. Fifteen agents and one special weapon coordinating down to the last detail. James never gave his input and it was never asked for.

His job was merely to sit and listen as Pierce assigned each of his agents to their individual task. His own was simple. Ensure that the target was eliminated. The other agents would get the target in place and he would be the final stroke.

James often found his attention slipping when the mission plans didn't concern him. His thoughts always ended up centered on the woman still in another part of the base only now she was alone. The worry in her eyes when he stood from their table had stayed with him. He could feel something was wrong.

All during the execution of his mission all he could think of was finishing off the man with the eyepatch. The drive to see Mikka and know that Kurtz had not over reached his boundaries hummed through his mind, pushing him through.

James stood in the center of a busy city street and looked to his right to see a nod from another agent signaling that the target was approaching. A moment later the black vehicle riddled with bullet holes sped down the street towards him. He quickly calculated the speed and predicted the swerve of the vehicle as he pulled his weapon to his shoulder and fired the magnetic grenade.

He felt satisfaction humming in his blood; his mission was nearly over and his thoughts as the vehicle exploded and flipped forward turned to Mikka. He wanted to tell her about his mission and how he wanted to bring her on the next. He felt she was ready and would do well at his side.

Beneath his mask James had a small smile at the thought and he walked toward the destroyed vehicle. He wasn't shocked that the target had escaped he did however feel anger and frustration at himself. He hadn't anticipated the target escaping through the asphalt and down into the under-city.

Pulling off his goggles he sent an angry look toward one of the agents and the man immediately began to talk over his headset to Rumlow still at base. A moment later James had the address of a possible destination.

* * *

Pierce had been displeased with the chaotic execution of his mission but only until a report came in that the target had died in a hospital. He dismissed James with a scowl and he was escorted back to his cell. He looked for Mikka through the small windows on their doors but she wasn't there and his unease grew until he felt almost ill.

Sleep eluded James. It wasn't often that he slept more than two or three hours so he was accustomed to waiting in the darkness until his door was opened, and this night he didn't even attempt it. Instead he waited and listened for any sound coming from the cell across the hall.

The next morning he entered the training room alone, so he trained alone, using the gun range to keep his mind from the missing Mikka. He held his silence until the day had ended and he was escorted back. Once his door was opened he looked over his shoulder at Kurtz before entering.

"Where is the other one?" James asked quietly.

Kurtz scratched his chin and considered James for a moment. "The boss decided to… intensify her training. Finish what the Russians didn't if you will. Now get in."

James stared at Kurtz without emotion for a short moment before following the order and settling in for another long sleepless night. There were questions toiling through his mind. Did she make a mistake? Did they figure out that she still had her memories? What were they doing to her and would she survive?

James let his head fall back against the cold cement wall. "Will I see her again and will she be… whole?"

* * *

Slowly blinking, Mikka struggled to find a way to focus on the red faced Pierce, through her tired eyes she could tell he had been angry when he stepped in the small white washed room she had been left in to recover. There was a cot and a table and chair and a window for observing the occupant. Her.

Pierce had paced the short six foot length for several minutes before finally facing her.

"You have two minutes to impress me, _asset_." Pierce growled in Mikka's face.

"What would you have me do?" Genuine confusion clouded her expression and she tilted her head to the side. Her mind felt fogged and her body felt too warm.

"Something that will make the resources spent on you worth it." Pierce snapped.

Mikka ran an unsteady hand over her shaved head, the fine hairs were soft and thin. A finger gently touched the stiches that ran along the old scar given to her long ago. Only this time she remembered everything.

Flashes of what they had done to her over the past weeks raced through her mind and Mikka closed her eyes at a wave of nausea. She didn't want to remember.

"If there's nothing you can do for me then I'm afraid that you are of no use. A failed experiment."

Mikka looked up at the click of Pierce arming a gun and found herself staring directly down the barrel located inches from her head. And she knew she didn't want to die. Everything she wanted flashed before her in that second in that old cliché way. Her freedom, her sister, to tell Tony about his family. James free of Hydra.

Her eyes closed for another moment and when she opened them once more something caught her eye. She no longer saw a dangerous weapon held steadily in the hand of her killer. It became parts and mechanisms. Piece by piece her eyes took the handgun apart until she saw a flaw. The firing pin was loose.

Mikka didn't question how she knew this but instinct took over and the way James would wrap his hand around the muzzle of a gun and slam his other hand into her wrist causing her to drop the gun flashed with her as she mimicked his moves while moving to her feet. Pierce was emotionless when Mikka quickly turned the gun on him.

Breathing hard with adrenaline she gave a predatory smile, her arms held the gun steady and she moved her stance into one ready to fire.

"Would you believe me if I told you that this shot will misfire?" She asked.

Pierce didn't answer her with anything more than a glare. Licking her lips Mikka nodded and pulled the trigger. She was pleased with the way the man responsible for her capture winced and closed his eyes. Realizing she had been right about the firing pin only lifted her higher. She didn't acknowledge the fear that waited just below the pleasure, trembling to be released.

There was a new look in Pierce's eyes. One that glimmered with both hatred and calculation that only amplified it.

"How did you know?" He demanded.

Lowering the gun Mikka walked toward him and handed him his weapon.

"Lucky for you… I just did. Now are we done here?"

Pierce answered her with a cold smile and held his hand toward the door.

With her head still held achingly high and her shoulders stiff from holding her emotions together, Mikka left the small room that had been her prison for the past weeks. Rumlow waited outside the door and followed her with silence, only speaking to give her orders on where to turn.

Eventually Mikka began to recognize hallways and stairs, until they entered the mess hall. There were agents still waiting for their food and judging by the smell Mikka guessed that it was evening. It wasn't until then that she realized that she had lost her sense of night and day for so long had she been awake at all hours with no distinction for when or how long.

It had been a long time since she had eaten but she didn't want stop for a meal. Her empty stomach turned and Mikka told herself to hold it together just a little longer. She was halfway through the large room when she caught the ice blue eyes watching her from across the many rows of tables and black clad hydra agents.

The mix of emotions and questions running through her almost stopped Mikka in her tracks and she held herself back from saying his name just in time. Relief that he was back, apprehension on why he had been gone, the urge to run towards him, the need to tell him what she had been through, and wonder if he would even care. But she couldn't do anything in that moment so she looked forward once more and walked quickly from the mess hall.

Mikka never thought since her abduction that she would feel relief as her old cell door closed behind her but from the moment she pushed it closed in Rumlow's face that was all she could feel. Sliding down to the floor wither her back against the door she let her legs and arms rest limply. Willing herself to just not think, to forget these past weeks, to forget pointing a gun at Pierce after disarming him, ignoring how she knew there was a flaw with the gun, and her suspicions on just what they were trying to do to her.

Instead she sat there numbly in the dark.

Time was lost on her again for she couldn't say how long she sat there staring at the dark wall across from her. The sound of approaching steps eventually broke through the deafening silence, Mikka felt her heart skip and she quickly stood to look out the small barred opening.

Keeping her face in the shadows she watched as James and Kurtz approached from down the hallway. Her breath caught when James looked toward her through the darkness to meet her eyes. An idea formed so brilliantly that Mikka couldn't believe that she hadn't thought of it before and she shifted her gaze to watch Kurtz.

* * *

The night drifted into the late night and James still sat awake. Anger sang through his body and refused to be let go, keeping his fists clenched and his eyes on the door. Seeing Mikka today hadn't been anticipated though not unwelcome. He had been concerned for her for endless weeks now so the relief to see her alive had been welcome.

It was her appearance and condition that had him ready to tear the door from its hinges. But he knew that would put her in danger so instead he sat and he thought about what they could have done to Mikka. From across the mess hall he could see her sharp, gaunt features as if she hadn't eaten in days. Dark rings under her eyes, a pale pallor to her skin, and her hair was gone.

The sound of a door opening brought James from his thoughts and before he could stand to investigate the sound of keys being pushed on the lock outside his door echoed through his room. A moment later his door swung open and the small body of Mikka flew through.

There was barely time to raise his arms to catch her as she flung herself into his chest, her own arms around his waist.


	7. Chapter 7

Polyye Vospominaniya

(Hollow Memories)

"I envy you James. I may hate myself for it but I do. Memories are meant to fade with time. The painful ones wiped away until they no longer make you choke with hurt and anger. Wonderful moments less… vivid. But when they are gone you are left with knowing that yes you had these moments and they are with you still in your soul even if you can no longer picture the faces or the scenery has faded... All those years ago all I wanted was to forget about home, my sister, the… training. All of it, I wanted them gone for so long." Mikka said quietly into the dark room. "It wasn't easy building a new life. So many lives I've lived, but not really. A young girl dreams of growing up and living a fairytale life full of love and adventure. Growing old with her sister and if she's lucky a man who loves her. Of learning to ride a horse not out of necessity but out of pleasure. Putting her skills in gardening and sewing to use in everyday tasks rather than knowing how to take a life with foxglove or stitching a bullet wound."

Mikka paused and felt the long line of stitches along her temple.

"I failed you, myself, that little Russian girl I once was. I became exactly what they wanted and it wasn't enough. They couldn't take my memories away from me by force and I couldn't lose them by will and trauma. Now I lay here wondering if you are lost to me."

* * *

 _Three days before…_

The feeling of human contact was intoxicating for Mikka. For arms to be wrapped around her waist in comfort rather than one around her throat in combat. A warm breath against her ear asking what had been done to her. Relief that he remembered her and that he was back unharmed made it difficult for her to breath.

It wasn't until that moment that she realized just how worried she had been about James and that from his reaction perhaps he had been just as worried about her.

Knowing in that moment she was not alone in the cruel darkness, she welcomed all of him. Feelings that she would typically put in a box and send to the far reaches of her soul were ready to burst free and consume her. The intensity in her chest caused her to push James away after only a few short seconds of comfort.

Backing away until she hit a wall, she watched him warily for his reaction. Just as it was for her, she was certain that it wasn't often he had human contact in any way other than combat and discipline.

"Forgive me James. I'm glad to see you are back."

Rather than give comment he moved to sit on his cot and face her.

"I take it your mission was a success?" Mikka asked with a conversational tone.

"How did you get in here?" He asked instead of answering.

Running her palms down her thighs Mikka nodded.

"Message received. Let see… I don't know why I didn't realize it before. My door was unlocked and yours wasn't. All I had to do was watch as the key code was entered and voila. A tour around your lovely cell. I think your cot is thicker than my own."

James nodded silently and Mikka was suddenly aware that she had never been alone with him. He continued to stare at her in silence and Mikka fought to find something to break it. But what do you say to someone with his memories erased. Instead her eyes were drawn to his metal arm glinting in the shadows.

Without control she began to dismantle it with her eyes. Visions of metal plates and gears flew into the air surrounding them. In awe Mikka began to walk among the visions, studying each part. Whispering to herself she named them, describing their function. Something caught her eye, something that didn't belong. It wasn't until she reached a finger out to touch the floating mystery did James at last break his silence.

"Mikka… what are you doing?" He asked with caution.

Startled by his voice Mikka blinked and watched as the visions faded. She looked toward him in a daze.

"There's something lodged in your arm isn't there?" She asked softly.

James glanced down at his heavy mechanical arm. The whirr of gears and pins whispered as he adjusted the arm. There was the faint clink of metal on metal.

"Will you allow me?" Mikka asked before kneeling at his side. She waited for his nod before reaching out and setting the metal hand on her thigh. Looking at the back of his arm she found a small shard of metal lodged between two plates.

"I can see it. Give me a moment and I'll have it out." Using her fingernail she pried the object free and held it up for him to inspect. "That should do it. The engineer must have missed it when you got back." She shifted her position until she could sit shoulder to shoulder with him.

His gazed flicked from the shard to her. "How did you know that was there?"

With a sigh she rubbed the back of her head. "I've always been good with machinery, even graduated top of my class and worked with the best in engineering." There was a pause as Mikka swallowed around the thick knot in her throat. "While you were gone doing… whatever, it shouldn't be hard to imagine what they had me up to. Something… something they did to me opened something inside me. Now when I- I look at something I take it apart, study it. I can see flaws and damage. Instantly I know how to fix it, make it better than it was before. It- It's difficult to describe much less to understand."

With hesitation Mikka looked at James, expecting him to call her insane, to throw her from his room and call for Kurtz to lock her away. But he did none of that. Instead he nodded and lifted his right hand to the side of her head. His warm and light touch told her he wanted her to lean her head forward.

"Do you remember?" he asked quietly.

Staring at her knees Mikka fought back the flashes of bright surgical lights, the sound of monitors, and faceless people behind masks murmuring and studying her as they held injection guns.

"I do."

Warm metal surrounded her hand and she looked down to see James metal hand entwined with hers. The sight brought a smile to her face and she looked up. She recognized concern and the feeling of happiness bloomed in her chest. It was a nice feeling knowing that someone cared for you.

"You remind me of my sister, James. She could be bossy or caring without saying a word. Hardly older than myself but somehow she always knew the right choice." Mikka paused and looked away from him. "Except the decision to leave the orphanage early. That was a mistake that I am still paying for today."

"Where did you go after the orphanage?" James asked quietly.

With a sigh Mikka dropped her head onto the metal shoulder.

"The KGB before there was even a KGB. And judging from the red star my cheek is presently resting on they had you too." Mikka lifted her head and studied the red star, running a finger along its lines. "I can't say when they had you since they were around a very long time. But…"

Ideas began to flash through Mikka's mind. Diagrams and blueprints, algorithms and circuitry formed until Mikka could put the idea to words and she met his blue eyes with her green ones.

"I promise you James that somehow we are going to get out of here and I'm going to restore your memories. I'll give back what Hydra stole from you."

* * *

 _Nearly three days later…_

"Your talent for engineering is going to come in great use on this mission, asset. Comply and prove yourself useful and perhaps we will move you to a nicer room with a wider range of access. Maybe even access to a lab. We are not the enemy here, Hydra is the way life should be."

James listened as Pierce spoke to Mikka over a comm line and he glanced toward her to see if she believed him. She didn't respond at first, simply kept with preparations. Sliding a black hat over her shaved head, strapping a knife to the underside of her forearm.

"The other asset will need the power source to his arm checked when we return. I can hear fluctuations in piston eighty-four E. I also require tools should the machinery take damage, add fuses to that too." She said.

Pierce replied in his usual cold way. "Will you comply and do everything you are ordered? The success of this mission is paramount. The preparations were more rushed than I would have liked but the window of opportunity is closing."

James thought back to a few hours before when he had been summoned to what must have been Pierce's personal residence. Similar words had been said to him moments before Pierced murdered what had appeared to be an innocent.

"Rumlow will have them prepared. Will you comply asset?" Pierce demanded with a growl in his voice his patience clearly at an end.

Mikka looked toward the camera positioned in the corner of the armory. "I comply."

"Good. Follow Kurtz to the hanger. Six hours remain." Pierce said before cutting the call.

James had wanted Mikka with him on a mission but he did not feel she was ready for a level six target. And so soon after weeks of experimentation. But there was a determined look in her eye and the set of her shoulders. And truly what choice did she have.

"Are you ready?" she asked from his side, bringing him from his thoughts.

Looking down at her he studied her to see if she was prepared. She didn't have enough of their trust to be granted heavy weapons but she had a knife and a pistol should she need them.

"Remember you are to stay out of the line of fire. If something should happen-"

"I know my job Ja- I know what to do. This is a powerful target you are against and I'm to keep your arm in top shape. Let's go and get this over with."

James nodded and followed her into the hallway to Kurtz. The walk to the hanger was quick. Agents clothed all in black ran in order to finish last minuet orders. Rumlow pointed toward the helicraft they were to board and he waited behind Mikka as she pulled herself up. The urge to lift her in aid caused his right hand to twitch and he clenched his hands in a dampening response.

Once seated Rumlow handed him a pair of goggles and a face mask. Swallowing he looked up to find Mikka watching him with a look of curiosity. Suddenly he realized that he didn't want to put them on, for when he did he would become a weapon. As the small helicraft lifted and moved toward the opening hanger doors he slowly strapped the mask on.

It pained him, the way Mikka looked away once she saw the face that had brought her to the facility. He was reminding her that he was the one who was responsible and deserved her hatred. He remembered the fire in her eyes as she vowed to restore his memories. James felt sick and lifted the goggles.

"Here, let me do that." Mikka said and took the goggles before he could protest. Instead he sat perfectly still while she tightened the buckle before running her fingers through his hair. "There. Agent Rumlow do you have the tools I requested?"

Rumlow nodded and tossed a black canvas bag to Mikka. She caught it and strapped it to the side of her thigh before settling in silence at his side, watching the city pass them by below.

"There's the car, the black one. Alright you know what to do. Backup will be there in twenty nine seconds." Rumlow said.

James slid the door open and waited for the helicraft to move into position above the targets car. He took a moment to look over his shoulder at Mikka who licked her lips nervously and nodded that she was ready. With an answering nod James leapt from the helicraft and landed with precision on the moving vehicle.

From the moment he jumped James became the relentless weapon he truly was. Without a thought he tossed someone out of the window and into traffic before firing his gun down through the roof. In an unexpected move the target stopped the car and James felt the force send him flying toward the pavement.

Moments later he was once more atop the car as it was pushed forward by one of Hydras armored vehicle. Leaping from the car just before it flipped he signaled for the driver to stop. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mikka leap from the helicraft hovering a hundred yards behind them.

Forcing himself to ignore her he reached for a grenade launcher and took aim and fired. One target was thrown into the air and off the overpass. James crossed him off as eliminated. Hydras agents followed him, firing their weapons and driving the remaining targets into cover. Seeing one with red hair behind a vehicle he fired another grenade, and another until the explosions left her nowhere else to go other than over the overpass.

"James your arm-"

"Is fine." He growled and looked over the edge of the overpass, searching for the target. Beside him was Mikka breathing slightly hard.

"Your arm took the brunt of that fall. I could see the damage fro-" she was cut off as the target with red hair fired shots, one hitting his goggles. The surprise sent James ducking down into cover and he noticed the cracks in the lens. Pulling them off he looked to his side to check on Mikka.

Panic and rage boiled inside of him. Just inches from him she lay twisted partially on her side, blood covering her face and the asphalt. Something snapped inside of him and all he could think was that he would make that woman pay.

* * *

"Sir there is a situation in Washington DC that you should see. "

Tony tossed another useless file toward a box, not caring that he missed and papers scattered across the floor. Sighing he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Really Jarvis? It's not enough that I have forty seven more boxes of files from yet another outdated bionics lab. You know… I understand the need for hard copies but I am over these paper cuts."

"Yes sir and I apologize for that. Now that we are searching through the nineteen seventies there was a significant lack of digital record for many amputee surgery or research. Are you certain you wouldn't like aid?"

"No, Pepper has a company to run. Fine what's going on in DC?"

Jarvis replied by opening video from a news station on the 'big screen'.

"That looks intense." Tony muttered at the firefight that seemed to be raging on.

"Indeed sir. I took the liberty of running facial recognition on the subjects involved. This appears to be an altercation involving your fellow avengers Captain America, the Black Widow, as well as others. Including this woman here."

Jarvis paused the live feed and zoomed in on a frame. Tony felt his stomach drop as he recognized the woman in the video as the one he had been searching for weeks now. And she was covered in blood and laying in an unnatural position.

"Jarvis tell Pepper not to hold dinner for me. I'm going to be late."

* * *

At last James had the targets pinned down enough for Hydra to send in a small force to capture them. He wanted them eliminated after what had been done to Mikka and he vowed to himself that he would get his chance. But the order had been given to keep them alive if possible.

A mix of thoughts warred through his mind. Mikka was injured, possibly dead. One of the targets knew him. Called him Bucky. Feelings of cold winter spread across his skin and sounds of cheers echoed through his mind. Shaking it off the disorienting thoughts and hollow memories once he saw the targets were secure, he climbed his way back up to the overpass where he had left Mikka.

The sound of sirens and people yelling clouded his hearing as he looked around. Not far from where he stood was a small crowed of people pointing and taking photos. Dread spread through his body and he pushed his way through. Just as he broke through the crowd a red armored body lifted into the air.

In that split second before the red body flew away, James noticed the limp Mikka covered in blood cradled in the arms.

James was frozen as they disappeared from sight.


	8. Chapter 8

Novyy Okhota Nachinayetsya

(A New Hunt Begins)

'He knew me- the man- he knew me. How? How did he know me? He called me… Am I… Bucky?'

James couldn't control his body's sudden movement as he became surrounded by unfamiliar senses and erratic thoughts.

'Falling… I'm falling and- cold. Everywhere is cold. The scent of blood, I can taste it too. The blinding white agony in my body- waking up to find… I am broken-'

The agents that surrounded him with steady aim never registered to James and neither did the words Pierce said to him. Until the sting of a blow to his face brought a short moment of clarity.

"The man on the bridge- who is he? " James tried to say more, tried to concentrate on what Pierce was saying to him but his thoughts misted over with images of Mikka.

'Did they find her? She- red hair, glossy and bright like… like an apple. Blood. So much blood- because of me. I have to find her. She has- Mikka has green eyes, she tries but she cannot hide anything from me because… her eyes tell the truth. She's not… she's not like me- not a killer-'

Hands pushed at his shoulders forcing him to lay back in the terrible chair that had been used to control her- Mikka. Realization hit James in the chest. Whatever the order Pierce had just given was lost on James as the memory of Mikka strapped into the same chair when he first met her.

"Red like apples, green like grass." James mumbled quietly. Forgotten was the man on the bridge, instead he held onto images of Mikka for as long as he could.

"Red like apples, green like grass." Mikka peering around a stack of books, twirling a pair of scissors around her finger before throwing them deep into his shoulder.

A mouth guard was shoved between his teeth.

'Red like apples, green like grass.' The way she smiled when she had her knee pressed against his throat, the flush to her skin when he pinned her to the combat mat.

'Red like-'

James body arched painfully, muscles straining and blood rushing cold through his veins, breathing impossible. Memories were ripped away one by one. The man who called him Bucky, the woman who shot Mikka, Mikka herself. Everything until all he was left with was the assassin the world and Hydra needed him to be.

\- After awakening in the middle night to find herself in the most comfortable bed her body had ever been in, Mikka had lain awake, her thoughts racing. She had no recollection of how she came to be in the room she was now safely resting in nor how long she had been there. Her last memory was trying to urge the assassin in James a moment of his time to make sure his mechanical arm was in good condition.

Mikka had no idea if he had survived the storm of bullets one of his marks had let loose on them. She knew a bullet had narrowly missed killing her but that left her wondering if they had missed their mark on James as well. Had he laid there beside her in the middle of the road, dead, until whoever took her came?

Did they take him as well?

Eventually these thoughts led Mikka to the windows that stretched from the floor to the ceiling and she was able to deduce that she was in a very tall skyscraper. Early morning grey skies brightened into brilliant blues. A news helicopter zipped by reporting the latest in traffic for those ready for work. Clouds came and went, each in boring form with nothing to offer in entertainment to Mikka.

Once the light of the sun allowed enough in she studied her surroundings. She seemed to be in a very lucrative guest room, decorated with deep blues and greys. The biggest bed she had ever seen with so many pillows she was mildly surprised that she didn't smother in her sleep. Furniture placed cozily by a fireplace and computer desk.

The dresser and bedside tables matched and there was a mirror perched above a vanity desk. Shiny wood floors with dark blue rugs in all the right places. Tasteful art that looked to be very expensive decorated the walls and the plants gave the final touch of home.

Mikka rubbed her hands down her arms as suspicions began to run rampant through her mind.

A glance at her apparel and she found that she was dressed in simple flannel bottoms and a plain white t-shirt and bare feet. Mikka felt uncomfortable at the thought of someone changing her while she was unconscious. A quick walk and she was bent to look at herself in the mirror. There she found her stitched up bullet wound deep in the red hair showing signs of growing out.

Other than the graze Mikka found no other injury. The surgery scars had healed long ago and she anticipated that this one would quickly heal as well. The only thing left to do was now figure out where she was and she quickly strode from the room. Finding herself with nowhere to go other than into the elevator directly across from her room she pressed the button for down and waited.

Certain that she had waited for much longer than any elevator had a right to take, irritation set in and she crossed her arms. No sign of a little screen showing which floor the elevator was currently on so Mikka was left to her growing frustration and she hit the button several more times. Each with more force than the previous.

At last the ding that all elevators have been dinging since they came about sounded and Mikka prepared herself to step inside. She froze on the spot however when the doors opened and the first think Mikka noticed was a pair of Nikes. Raising her gaze she found herself face to face with none other than Tony Stark, his cocky grin and relaxed pose against the elevator wall.

"Which floor?" he asked with obvious humor.

Mikka quickly decided to play ignorance. Suddenly she was very afraid of what he knew and afraid of what she wanted to tell him. Schooling her features into indifference she uncrossed her arms and stepped into the elevator and turned her back to her long lost nephew.

"Ground, please." She said simply.

At his silence and lack of movement Mikka looked over her shoulder to see Tony put up a mockingly serious face and straightened. "Great floor, love that floor. One of my favorites really." He then paused and held a finger up. "But just for a moment would you like to stop by the most interesting floor?"

Her irritation levels rose tenfold and she grit her teeth. "Your elevator…" she ground out with a false smile.

Tony widened his eyes as if just realizing she were right. "Huh imagine that. Jarvis take us to floor number forty four."

Mikka looked back towards the doors as a voice came over the speaker somewhere. "Of course sir." And the elevator at last began to descend with silence falling between them. Mikka's shoulders were stiff. All she wanted to do was run before he started asking the difficult questions.

After a moment the elevator slowed and the doors opened with the same little ding and she crossed her arms as she stepped out into a massive room and Mikka's mind went into overdrive. Everywhere she looked there was technology like she had never seen before.

She was suddenly faced with just how far removed she had been from things that she loved. Memories of hours upon hours bent over drawing boards with Howard, throwing ideas around and experimenting with each of them. The singed eyebrows when something went wrong and the triumphant high five when they succeeded.

What Howard's son had created however was beyond her wildest imagination and her brain went to work. Tony and all her apprehension about her current situation were pushed to the side and she walked toward the center of the room. On instinct her hands knew what to do with the holographic screen.

She had an idea on how to help James if she ever saw him alive again. Moving her hands she began to draw and invent components. Putting them together like pieces of a puzzle. Tony was completely forgotten after several moments as Mikka immersed herself in the visions in her mind. If she had looked around she would have found her over grown nephew half pouting and half amused as he watched her hands fly around the holographic images.

Tony kept an eye on the woman with curiosity. Followed her movements, studied what she was creating. He remembered words his father had mentioned about her, rare though they were and usually only after a night of fine whiskey.

"A mind full of ideas and creativity your aunt had. After the life she'd had, it was nothing short of a miracle that it had remained intact. Wherever she is she must be exhausted from her life."

Not much to go on but Tony's mind had a million questions demanding to be answered and he began to grow restless.

"I see my dear old dad was right about you."

Mikka didn't pause in her work but was willing to keep her charade going just a bit longer. "Oh yea? Who's your dad?"

Tony walked around to the opposite side of the holographic screen and kept his face inscrutable.

"A drunk and selfish man."

His words had the desired effect as fire lit in Mikka's eyes and she broke her attention from her designs.

"Ah there's my aunt Micah he held dear to his heart. Say we get to know each other you and I? We have positively decades to catch up on."

Mikka glared at him a moment longer before going back to her work but she decided she had put him off long enough.

"It's Mikka."

Tony gave an over exaggerated sigh of relief. "Whew! A moment longer and I would have begun to think I had the wrong woman. Now that would have been awkward." Clapping his hands together he studied her. "Now where should we begin?"

"Start with the beginning perhaps?"

"Perfect! Let's go with that."

"Russian experiment, your grandfather brought me to America, your father put me through school, and I was a danger to you, your mother and father, so I left. Now you found me."

Tony rolled his eyes. "I feel like there are a few details missing."

Mikka sighed in annoyance. This was not how she wanted to get involved with Tony. "My turn. How did you find me?"

"I've had Jarvis working around the clock tirelessly. How did you come to be in a firefight with the Cap and the Widow?"

Shock reverberated through Mikka and she couldn't stop the horror that drained the blood from her face. "Cap? You mean Captain America? He was- was there and James…" Mikka felt sick and she make her way to the nearest lab chair, sank into it and held her head in her hands.

Tony moved to stand next to her. "Jarvis put the footage on screen."

Immediately Mikka was watching a video shot from a helicopter. She knew what James was, had known all along. An assassin and a good one at that. But she had also always known that he was a prisoner. But watching him try to kill Steve Rogers, one of the good guys, and then seeing herself next to him one moment and on the ground the next. It was all so much to take in.

With all the horror she was feeling something good took hold as she watched to video continue. James stood and began to fight back once more.

"He's alive…" she whispered with wide eyes.

"Jarvis turn it off."

Mikka had to blink twice when the last image of James was him watching from a crowd of spectators as Iron Man flew off into the sunset with her limply laying in his arms, it disappeared and she looked up at Tony who had distrust written all over his face.

"Now as much I am enjoying our little family reunion, I think we need to discuss some hard details here."

Mikka began to realize that her position was on the edge of a cliff right now and this was not the time to play coy with Tony any longer. "I'm not Hydra. They want me for the experiments the KGB did on me when I was a child. Looking to reopen a program that my sister and I were in."

"How does the man with the metal arm and Capsicle fit into this?"

"I'm not sure why Steve is involved. James was ordered to bring me in. Steve helped me escape if only for a moment…." Mikka's eyes grew bright and she sprang from her seat and moved to the screen. "Jarvis can I please have a geographical view of Washington D.C."

Tony sputtered as Jarvis complied. "Hey we weren't through here… what are you doing?"

"He's alive and I have to help him." Mikka said as if it should have been obvious. She began to move the map in several directions.

"What are you doing and are you talking about the metal armed dude? The one who tried to kill Rogers and Romanova?"

Mikka immediately whirled and put a hand around Tony's throat pushing him back until his lower back hit a counter. Her movements were so fast he was helpless to stop her.

"Awfully strong for a ninety year old."

"I'm eighty-seven. How do you know that name?" She demanded before letting him go but she didn't move away.

Tony was aware of the pierce of her gaze and held a hand up. "The Black Widow, Natasha Romanova, former employee of mine, top SHIELD agent, assassin that shot you-" he stopped when tears filled her eyes and she turned away abruptly.

With a shake of her head she went back to her search.

Tony shook his head in confusion. "So that's it? No explanation as to what the hell that was about? Back to searching for your killer boyfriend."

Mikka's control was dangerously fragile at that moment and the last tendrils she had of it snapped and she whirled back to face Tony.

"Yes no explanation Tony! This may be your palace but I am not one of your subjects and must give you an explanation if I don't wish to. And yes I'm going back to my search for James. He's as much a prisoner as I was. The power that evil organization has, has to be stopped and I'm going to rip it away from them."

Tony stood silent for a moment before checking his watch. "Fine. I have a lunch date with Pepper. My palace is at your disposal but this rescue mission is all on your own. If you want to get into contact with Cap or Widow, let Jarvis know."

Mikka tried to calm her breathing as Tony left and let out a relieved sigh once the elevator doors slid closed behind him. He couldn't possibly know how much she loved him and was happy to see him grown up, successful, and powerful. As always her first instinct was to protect him from the ugly world she was getting dragged back into.

The voice of Jarvis distracted her from her thoughts. "If I may bring a developing story to your attention Miss Romanova."

Sighing Mikka looked back toward the screen. "Go ahead Jarvis."

The images flashing across the screen had Mikka shaking her head in denial. Headlines and pictures of Captain America were all over the screen. Enormous flying machines were firing upon each other and falling down to earth and she knew without a doubt that James was there and very possibly her sister as well.

"I'm too late…" she whispered.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: Welcome back! Massive apologies for the massive delay. And massive apologies for such a short chapter but I just needed to get the mind rolling again with this story and lay out the next arc.**

* * *

"You… were friends?"

"Brothers… A brother who was dead."

"And yet he is alive, and he saved you."

"You say they erased his memories?"

"Yes. They tried to do so to me as well."

"Why didn't it work on you? Why were you spared?"

Mikka dropped her eyes to the mug of quickly cooling coffee held in her hands, the words 'My IQ is higher than yours' printed in bold black against the white of the cup.

"I have theories… possibly from the experiments performed on me as a young woman, perhaps someone made an error as they prepared the machine to clear my memories." Mikka shuddered at the memory of that awful machine. "I experienced that fear of losing myself only once. I can hardly imagine the horror James had been through… Where do you suppose he will go?"

Steve drew out a long sigh. "The James I once knew… I like to tell myself that Bucky… would have found me. We were a team once. Now… He's a target. The world will want him dead."

Mikka fought the urge to rest a hand on the grieving hero's arm. She hesitated to reveal her own experiences as a woman on the run from hostile forces, this wasn't about her, and she had nothing to say that would comfort Steve.

Instead she turned her mind back to what it was _she_ would be doing next.

"I'm going to destroy that machine."

Steve's gaze flashed to meet hers.

"That technology in the hands of anyone, especially HYDRA, is dangerous."

"You're not going to help me search for Bucky?"

Mikka nearly flinched at the accusation in his voice, and the words she had tried to suppress came flowing forth.

"Steve- take it from me as someone who has been on the run for decades… he won't want to be found." A sheen of tears blurred her vision. "He is lost and confused. I saw that for myself from our time together. He's going to want answers, to fill the endless void in his mind. I want nothing more than to find him, to let him know that he isn't alone but- all chasing after him is going to achieve, is to force him in to deeper hiding."

Mikka took a deep breath and wiped a tear away. "I care for him, I do. He forced clarity on me when my stubbornness would have gotten me killed. Therefore, I'm going to take that machine apart with my bare hands if I have to."

Steve scrubbed a hand over his face before giving a short nod.

"You're right, of course. I can't promise that I won't look for him, but… I won't make a fuss of it either."

Mikka's smile, for the first time in a very long time was genuine. "I can't say that I won't stare at anyone with artist hair, hoping to find him. I fear I'll go crazy with doing it but…"

Steve returned her smile briefly before shifting nervously.

Mikka grew concerned. "What?"

"Eh- were you- um- close?"

A rosy tint came over Steve's face, leaving Mikka bewildered, before she felt her own embarrassment show at Steve's implication.

"Oh goodness Steve! I don't- er- no. A HYDRA prison cell is hardly the- um- environment."

" _Alright, time to break up this adorable ninety year old virgin convention. Jarvis has information you might find interesting. Has to do with the whole machine destroying mission."_ Tony's voice sounded from over a speaker.

Mikka closed her eyes in silent mortification. Only opening them to find a similar emotion on Steve's made her feel somewhat better. After Mikka set down her forgotten coffee they both stood and moved to enter the elevator before Steve paused to answer his cell phone.

"Hello, this is Steve."

Mikka bit back a smile at his formality. While they were from the same era of such politeness, she had been there to actively watch the world change, Steve had not.

"Natasha. Yes, I have your name saved in my contacts, but you never know." Steve gestured to Mikka that she should go on without him, to which she did so and stepped into the elevator.

She felt a twinge at the name Natasha, but shook it off. That was another mission, though a bit more unknown to her nephew.

"Alright Anthony, Jarvis. What have you learned?" Mikka asked as she stepped into the lab.

"I have scanned the S.H.I.E.L.D. databases and have come across a single report on HYDRA and the memory suppression technology that could have been used to build the unit in DC." Jarvis said and Tony clapped his hands together once, a light of excitement in his eyes.

"Pack up. We're going to Russia."

Mikka was a mixture of determination and guilt as she looked from the holograph of information to her nephew.

She shook her head slowly, struggling for the words that would put the distance between them that she needed.

"I appreciate your assistance Tony- I do. But I'm going alone."

The way his shoulder's straightened and the slight clench of his jaw, told Mikka that her words had an immediate effect.

"Right. Don't forget, I collect postcards."

The man before her faded into a small boy, a boy who craved family and adventure.

"I know what you're thinking. We're family, and we should stick together, and you're right. We should, and we will. I know that I must break this habit of lone wolfy-ness and become part of the pack. But this- this is taking me to a home that tried to break me and I knew that when I took this personal mission on that I would be facing it." Mikka reached out and threaded her fingers through his. "I don't know what I'll find, or who I'll find."

"And if HYDRA is still lurking about? Do you think they are just going to let you walk away twice?"

Mikka smiled at the squeeze he gave her hand before she slipped away.

"I have lived a long time without actually living. You coming into my life made me feel human, and with that feeling, came the realization that I would never be the cause of harm to you. I found that feeling again… in a HYDRA cell."

Tony deflected with a roll of his eyes and a wave of his hand.

"Please spare me the details. Like I said… send me a postcard."

"Then… I suppose I have a plane to catch."

Tony grunted in answer before hold a finger up.

"Wait. You'll want this back."

Mikka waited with interest as Tony strode to a cabinet and pulled out her familiar old backpack.

"You'll have a passport and IDs waiting for you in it."

Mikka took the backpack before looking up at him in astonishment.

"You weren't truly expecting to go with me… were you?"

Tony shrugged.

"I would have if you wanted me to, but no, I wasn't. Great speech though. Made me feel loved."

Mikka gave a short laugh and pulled her grown nephew into a firm hug.

"I'll be back, with answers and a plan."

She felt the light pat he gave to her shoulder.

"Course you will. You're a Stark."

* * *

Tony held the passenger door of his car open as Mikka joined him on the airport pavement.

"How many planes do you own?" She asked with raised brows.

"Too many."

"Where is that one?"

Tony followed her gaze to an empty hangar and fought back a smile.

"A… acquaintance is borrowing it. Something about joining the mile high club, blah blah blah. Been there- done that."

"Ew."

"Oh don't knock it till you've tried it."

"I'm not discussing this with you. So where's my plane then, oh dear _nephew_."

Tony chuckled lightly at her embarrassed blush and pointed to an elegant jet a little way away.

"It had better be better than the one your acquaintance has." Mikka said with false sarcasm.

"Never fear Aunt Mikka. He took the shabbiest. You'll be flying in style and comfort all the way to Russia."

Mikka waited as Tony's employees prepared for her to step aboard, her stomach a twist of iron knots.

"Sure you wouldn't like some company?"

She looked from the pearly white jet to Tony.

"You have a job here. You stay and keep the world safe. I'll go along and see what trouble I can get into."


End file.
